


Different Letters with the Same Sound

by GilliganGoodfellow



Series: Bull-Pavus Family [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety, Asexual Character, BDSM mentioned but not shown, Big Sister Sera (Dragon Age), Blood Magic, Cole (Dragon Age) Being Cole, Cole really shouldn't be allowed to have the plan, Despair, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Helpful Cole (Dragon Age), Human Cole (Dragon Age), Hurt/Comfort, I'm overly cautious when it comes to tags, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It doesn't happen but someone thinks it might, Memories, Past Child Abuse, Protective Iron Bull, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Tickling, i love that that's a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-08-29 01:45:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16734693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilliganGoodfellow/pseuds/GilliganGoodfellow
Summary: 2 days into "babysitting" Cole for Varric, and Iron Bull is already planning the dwarf's medal ceremony. Meanwhile, a sense of despair is settling over Skyhold...





	1. Apples

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to "Gilligan's brain thinks that two WIPs at the same time is perfectly sensible!!!"

Bull’s Chargers.

Mercenaries. Tough bastards, tougher drinkers. Famous across Thedas as the heroes of the Inquisition. Or maybe that was just in Bull’s head. Nevertheless, they were the battle hardened men and women that the Qunari entrusted his life to almost daily.

He was currently watching them go mushy over a baby.

“She’s perfect.” Krem says, holding his gift of a tiny stuffed nug over the baby. The child giggles, reaching up for the toy, and giggling again when Krem moves the nug to ‘kiss’ her on the nose.

As soon as Candy’s daughter had been born it was clear to the Healer, the Midwife, and pretty much anyone with functioning eyes that the little girl was the result of Candy’s ‘ongoing business arrangement’ with Grim. Iron Bull is pretty sure that this makes the newborn a lost princess of a small country, or whatever the fuck a Chieftan’s daughter is called.

To the Qunari’s admiration, Grim had (according to Skinner, who was the only charger that spoke fluent Grim) vowed to stay by Candy and help raise their new daughter. And that is exactly where he is now, legs stretched out along the bed as he sits with an arm around Candy, both looking down at the child in her arms as Krem continues to entertain her with the nug.

“Skinner.” Iron Bull stoops down to whisper into the elf’s ear. “Where’s the blanket we got her?”

Skinner suddenly looks very worried, and quietly sneaks out of the room. As Bull watches her creep away, he finds himself looking at Cole. The boy is sitting in the corner, kicking the ground with his feet as he rocks slightly in his chair. He seems lost in his own head for the moment, reaching up to worry at the edges of his hat.

Bull shakes his head. Two days ago, the Inquisitor had headed out for Val Royeaux with Cassandra, Dorian, Vivienne and Varric. Several pints into their farewell drinks, Varric had asked Bull to “babysit the kid” while he was gone, to which Bull had accepted without much thought. After all, how much “babysitting” could a spirit turned human need?

Since then, Cole had burned his hand while comforting a boiling kettle (“It was screaming.”), nearly choked on a biscuit because he forgot to chew (twice), and fallen out of a tree while rescuing a cat.

The Iron Bull was currently planning Varric’s medal ceremony. He was also wondering if Candy and Grim would willingly swap infants.

The sound of laughter brings his focus back to the room as Stitches carries the baby around, pointing out different objects. “And this is a table. You sit at that using this. This is called a chair.”

Dalish laughs as, beside her, Rocky shakes his head in disbelief.

“And this is another chair, and look it has a Cole on it.” Stitches holds up one of the baby girl’s hands, waving at the boy. Tentatively, Cole waves back.

“Cole?”

“Yes, Marguerite?”

She smiles at the name. “Do you want to hold her?”

Cole holds his arms out eagerly towards Stitches, who chuckles. “Ever held a baby before?”

To Bull’s surprise, Cole nods as he confidently accepts the bundle. “Hold the head. She’s too little to hold it herself. Too fragile. She will need looking after.” Cole gives a quiet laugh as he looks down at the tiny girl. “Teach her right from wrong. Help her to reach the apples on the low branches until she is tall enough to reach for herself. And protect her from the monsters.” His eyes grow distant. “You’re her brother, and your job is to keep her safe.”

“Cole?”

If Cole heard Bull it doesn’t show. He seems to be in a trance as he rocks the baby from side to side. Then, so quietly that Bull almost doesn’t hear it, Cole starts to hum what the Qunari recognises as a popular Fereldan lullaby.

“So.” Krem is asking. “You thought of a name yet?”

Grim grunts, and Candy nods. “We want to get to know her first. See what name feels natural.”

Dalish smiles. “She has your eyes, Grim.”

“Your nose too.” Rocky says. “Poor brat.”

“Just hope she is happy.” Candy’s face suddenly crumples, a tear trailing down her cheek. “What world have I brought her into? Wars and demons and holes in the sky. We’re safe now but for how long?” The tears come quicker. “What if all she ever knows is fear?”

“Hey, Candy.” Bull steps forward as Grim tightens his hold around the woman. “What’s brought this on?”

“I...I don’t know.” As quickly as the spell starts, it stops, Candy looking at the tear stains in her fingers as if surprised to see them there.

“Looks like motherhood is making you crazy already.” Bull says, smiling as he taps Candy’s forehead gently.

“Marguerite?” They all look round to see Cole standing at the foot of the bed with the baby, eyes hidden by his hat. “She’s hungry.”

Krem takes the child from Cole, carrying her over to her mother.

“And that’s our cue to leave.” Iron Bull says, placing a hand on each of Cole’s shoulders to usher him out while the other chargers follow. “You too, Grim. We’ve got a baby’s head to wet.”

The Chargers all cheer, but it quickly becomes clear that Grim is quite happy sitting where he is, arm still around Candy, but gaze now fixed on the bed in polite respect of her modesty as she prepares to feed their daughter.

Bull gives the charger a salute, and leads the rest of the party out into the courtyard.

“Last one there buys the round.” Krem calls, and the race begins. The Chargers run over each other in a fashion that only by some sort of divine intervention doesn’t send them collapsing to the courtyard ground in a heap. Bull laughs as he watches, then realises that Grim is not the only one missing from the group.

He turns to find Cole walking off in the opposite direction. “You not joining us, kid?”

“No.” He says. “I can’t say more.”

“Why not?”

“She told me not to.” Cole looks at the floor.

“She?” Bull stoops down to Cole’s eye level, an amused glint in his eye. “Cole, are you going to meet a lady friend?”

“Yes.” He looks up, then shakes his head. “No. She is a lady, but I don’t think we are friends. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Then why all the secrecy?”

“She made me promise. I had to do this.” He holds up his little finger, as his voice changes into a twisted impression that Cole probably doesn’t even know he is making. “You break it Creepy, and that finger drops off. You hear?”

Sera?

The FUCK!?!

Meanwhile, Cole’s voice has returned to normal. “It’s because she thinks people will laugh. At her. She’s probably right.” Cole shrugs, then walks away. “She doesn’t like it when people laugh at her. Even though she pretends not to care, she does. It hurts her.”

Bull looks over his shoulder in the direction of the tavern, then back in the direction that Cole has just left.

He wouldn’t be _spying_ on the boy, not really. After all, Cole is an impressionable kid. Likes to help. Sensitive. Kind. The sort of person that is easily taken advantage of, whether Sera (SERA!?!) realises she is doing that or not. Iron Bull is doing his duty as a friend to both of them by following and...uh...watching over them and making sure things don’t...Iron Bull chuckles.

It takes every ounce of his Ben-Hassrath training to avoid being detected by the mind reader as he follows Cole. The boy soon turns into the alleyway behind the stables.

“The stables, kids. Really?” Bull shakes his head as he pulls himself up onto a neighbouring building, finding a niche where he can see into the alley but not be easily seen himself. A torch has been set up in the alley, casting a cozy glow over the crates and boxes there.  

Cole approaches one of the crates, and Sera steps out from behind them, a large sack hanging from one shoulder.

“You’re late, Creepy.”

“Marguerite had her baby.” Cole says as he and Sera each sit on a storage crate, facing each other across the alley. “She is very small. The baby, not Marguerite. Marguerite is large now. But Stitches says she will get small again. But not as small as the baby.” Cole smiles. “I want her name to be Sophie. She looks like a Sophie.”

“Let’s get to it then. Be here all night, otherwise.” Sera bites into an apple as she pulls something out of the sack, some paper, and an ink pen.  She hands them to Cole, along with a slate for him to lean against as he rests it on his lap “Take that fricking thing off.” She grabs Cole’s hat, pulling it from his head and dropping it to the ground. “Challenge time. Write your name.”

He looks from Sera to the paper, and slowly starts to write. C O L E

“Good. My name.”

S E R A

Sera sits back, taking another bite of her apple. “Varric.”

V A R R I C

“You remembered those, then.” Sera speaks around the apple pieces in her mouth. She swallows, and takes another bite. “Inquisitor.”

Cole looks up at her. “You didn’t teach me that name.”

“It’s a challenge, innit.” She indicates the parchment with a nod. “You know how letters make other words. Which letters do you think make Inquisitor?”

Cole bites the tip of his thumb as he thinks, and looks at Sera.

“Oi.” She narrows her eyes. “Deal was that if I taught you to read words, then you’d STOP reading my mind.” She smirks. “Try to get the answer from me again and I’ll make you draw genitals.”

He flinches, and then he starts to write, letters large enough that Bull’s sharp vision are just able to make them out.

I N C K W I S E T E R

Sera fights back a snort filled laugh as Cole holds up the paper for her to see.

“I did it right?”

“You did it shite.” She stands on her box, hops across the alley, and drops to a cross legged position beside Cole. “Good try though. Got the first two letters right, I and N, but then it’s a Q. And what letter follows Q?”

“U.”

She nods. “So…I N Q U I...”

“Blackwall is different?” Cole says.

“Blackwall?”

Cole writes out the name. B  L A C K W A L L

Then, under it, he writes B  L A Q U A L L

“Why is it that and not that? It’s the same sound, but they use different letters to make it.”

“Well, it’s just how words work, innit?”

“But why?” Cole says, agitated. “The words are all talking with different letters. But saying the same thing.”

Sera looks up for a minute, thinking about her answer. “Well, maybe the different words just have their favourite way of making sounds.” She says. “Like how people all have different favourite foods.”

“I like Druffalo stew.”

Sera squints slightly. “You eat?”

“Dorian showed me.” Cole says. “He said I needed weight on my bones. So now I eat.”

“Not a wise person that let’s a Tevintor fatten them up.”

Cole eyed widen as he looks at her. “You called me a person.”

“I…”

“Thank you.”

“Ah shite.” She groans. “Right. So I N Q U I…”

Bull shakes his head, crossing his arms as he sits back against the wall behind him. The Qunari needs to know how this little arrangement came about, but he knows better than to interrupt the kids, or to even make his presence known. Instead, confident that Cole is not currently in danger of harming either himself or a part of Skyhold, Bull quietly climbs down from his hiding place and makes his way to the tavern. The Chargers are waiting for him.

His face falls.

The Chargers. How is he supposed to protect them? The day will come, the life they lead it is only a matter of time. It is a case of when, not if. One of them will die. Maybe all of them. Because of a decision he made. For the Inquisition. They have sworn to lay down their lives for the cause. Will they have to? Will he fail them?

 _Of course you will_.

He flinches, and looks down at his fist. Noting the tiny semi circles of blood where his nails have dug into the skin.

And as quickly as it started, the spell stops.

But now The Iron Bull can’t help shake the feeling that he is being watched.

  



	2. Bait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. This got real dark real quick.

_Vice grip on the insides, bile stuck in the throat like swallowed mud. Who would miss me? What am I in this world? A burden on all around me._

Cole opens the door to his room slowly, arms folded around his torso as he closes his eyes and tries to listen.

_No, not a burden, a parasite. Taking and taking until nothing is left. Never giving back._

Someone needs help. It’s all he can hear. No, more than one. Weeping. Silencing screams with a fist to the mouth. Blankets hiding tears. Don’t wake him. He works so hard, let him sleep. Suffer in silence.

Cole flinches as he reaches the second floor of the tavern, empty and dark now. He glances briefly at Sera’s room. It isn’t her he can hear. He continues down to the ground floor, stepping out into the early morning, arms still wrapped around himself to ward off the cold.

_We can’t fight them all._

_I let him die. Just a boy._

He looks left and right. It’s everywhere, surrounding him like a fog. So many people. So many voices.

_Maker, help me._

And then, voices over the voices. Growls and hisses.

Cole feels cold inside. Frozen like the river near Haven in the spring.

Despair. He can taste them in the wind, the foulness sticks to his throat. Chokes him.

One. No, four.

He can’t fight four alone, if he tries he will die. He knows this. And then they will be free to hurt people.

They are hurting people. He has to stop them.

_Compassion_

They can hear him. Smell him like he can then. If he runs, then they are free to hurt other people.

If he goes to look for help, no it will take time. Too much time. They are hurting people now. He has to stop them now. Not later.

_I’m sorry._

He could…

He has to stop them from hurting people.

_I want to hurt._

He steps out into an area that is easily seen from windows and the guard stations. He will be seen here. They will be seen, in time.

He closes his eyes, and concentrates. Opens his mind, pushes against the spirit world.

“Find me.” He says to the wind.

_“Cole, you little bastard! You think you can hide from me forever?”_

A voice, his father’s voice. No, father to the real Cole. But he is real as well now.

_The real Cole died because you couldn’t save him. Because you were too pathetic. Weak._

And father is angry, always angry. Stamped feet and the house shakes as the door is shut.

_“You know what the punishment is.”_

He pulls the rim of his hat right over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut. As if blocking out the world will block out the voice. But the voice is inside.

Cole knows what belts feel like against a back. Swift punches and kicks while he is down. The thickness of blood running from his nose. He trembles.

_“You’re worthless. A mistake I should have drowned long ago.”_

They are all he can smell now, rotting flesh and cold, ice filled air that stings when he breathes it in. A face of teeth and hands of claws, tongues licking at fangs. He has to focus. Remember the bad memories. He needs to be a banquet to them. Better than all the people of Skyhold.

Bait.

He can’t hear anymore pain, only his own.

Demons of despair.

They find him. Claw at him. Make him remember more things.

Varric is walking with him around Skyhold, and making up stories for all the people they see. “That guy there. Escaped Tevintor Slave, on the run for murdering his abusive master.”

“No.” Cole shakes his head. “He’s a Merchant.”

“That’s not how the game works, Kid.” Varric says, shaking his head sadly. Cole feels the anxiety stab at his chest. He has disappointed the dwarf, even though Varric reassures him over and over that it’s fine.

_Nothing but a disappointment to him._

Sitting cross legged on the floor of Cassandra’s room, listening to her read their favourite Swords and Shields chapter. He likes the way she smiles when she gets to the parts she knows he likes. She skips past the parts she knows he doesn’t like.

“You don’t have to.” Cole says. “I know YOU like those parts.”

“I can read them to myself later.” She says. “I am reading to you now.”

And Cassandra is talking to him again, but now with fear and anger in her eyes. “You murdered Lord Seeker Lambert. We thought Lambert was assassinated. It made the rebellion worse, and many people were killed.”

 _Murderer_.

“I was wrong to kill Lambert, wasn’t I, Cassandra?”

Cole drops his knifes, falling to his knees in the clearing. He can see the demons surrounding him, their claws reaching out again.

He must not fight.

He must not run.

He has to keep them here. Here where they are not hurting anyone. Until help arrives.

Help will arrive.

Someone will see.

He’s a murderer. This is what he deserves. To feel pain.

What if they leave him to his fate.

He remembers.

“Stop it, you freak.” Sera throws a stone at him, and he just dodges it. “Read a fricking book instead of people’s minds?”

“I can’t.” Cole looks down in the memory. “Words don’t speak to me, not like they do to Varric.”

“You don't read?” Sera looks at him with something close to pity. “That ain’t right.”

He uses his finger to write his name in the dirt.

C  O L  E

_It’s not your name. You stole it._

He tries to think of Candy’s daughter, and how much like Bunny she is. No, don’t think of Bunny.

_You’ll fail Sophie like you failed Bunny._

_You’ll kill her._

_They’ll all hate you._

_They already do. They pity you. Parasite._

_“A mistake I should have drowned long ago.”_ His father’s voice again.

He feels a wetness on his face, and reaches to touch it, finding his fingers coming away tear stained.

 _Murderer_.

_How many died because of you?_

“I didn’t know what I was.” Cole says, quietly.

 _We know what you are_.

_She was innocent._

_They were all innocent._

_You hurt things. Damage things. You make the hurt worse. Demon._

_Demon._

Cole shakes his head, falling onto the ground and curling tightly on his side. His hat falls away. Mud mixes with his hair. His knives are right there, on the ground beside him.

It would be so easy to pick one up and...

No. He turns onto his back. Looks at the sky.

He remembers Varric distracting Leliana while Cole puts honey in her wine.

The Inquisitor wanting to spend time with him. Taking him to the cafe at Val Royeaux.

Vivienne looks down her nose at him, commenting on the state of his patched up clothes. He says he has no others, and she disregards his comment with a wave. Three days later, a box of new clothes appears in his room.

A campfire. Cole is laid on his stomach, chin rested in his hands while listening to Iron Bull tell the party a story of the Charger’s exploits. Sat beside the boy, Dorian laughs at the story, and he absentmindedly gives Cole a quick pat on the back before resting his hand between the boy’s shoulder blades.

It feels warm.

_They’ll all hate you. Once they find out what you really are. No one will want to touch you._

He doesn’t deserve to feel warmth.

_You’ll tell them what you are. And they will hate you._

He has to keep the demons here. Keep people safe.

He has to help.

Why is no one coming?

Fear eats at him. Claws in the back of his neck.

_They’ve abandoned you._

It spirals over and over in his mind. They show him things that can’t be real, but they are. As real as the solid ground beneath him. He is laid on the cold damp floor of a cell, forgotten and left to starve. It feels like days. Weeks. Months.

In a cupboard hiding from father. The door is pulled open and a rough hand grabs his hair. No one is coming to help. No one ever comes. He is pulled into pain.

Over and over.

Metal scraping. He hears a shout. Swords and knives and arrows and the staff of a mage firing lightening. No, arrows. Dalish is an archer.

It’s chaos. Inquisition soldiers and Chargers and blood and steel and sparks and then cold. He feels the cold of the ground consume him, seeping through his skin and bone and making his entire body heavy. Weighed down. His legs ache.

He can feel that he is still crying.

He closes his eyes.

He can feel a hand rest on his shoulder, another tilt his face. Hands hold his side and he is lifted from the ground, held with his chest pressed against another chest, arms holding him firmly. One large hand encourages him to rest his forehead on the larger person’s shoulder, his arms loose around their neck. Cole shivers.

“Easy Kid.” The voice is quiet against his ear. “Easy. I’ve got you. It’s over.” The hand rests on the back of his head, fingers running back and forth through his hair. “It’s over.” The voice becomes louder. “Stitches?”

“I’m here.”

“Cole, Stitches needs to check you for injuries.” The arm around him loosens, but Cole doesn’t move.

“Bring him over to the bench, Chief. Keep holding him, I’ll work around it.”

Cole feels himself being rocked slightly, and then someone is standing behind him, stood on the bench so they can reach. Gentle hands touch him, probing down his arms and legs, pressing into his stomach and then running up and down his back. “Can you turn around?”

More rocking, and a hand on his forehead, tilting his head back. Kind eyes looking into his. The hand moves away, and Cole lowers his face again.

Movement, then a coat is draped around him. “Just keep holding him, Chief. Think that’s the best medicine for him right now.”

Cole is being rocked again. He's being carried. He doesn’t know where he is being carried to. To comfort? To more punishment?

He doesn’t care.

* * *

“Despair demons.” Solas’s voice is plain, but when he turns to look at Cullen, the sadness is clear in his expression.

Stood by the door, Cullen rests a hand on the hilt of his sword. “If there are any more demons in Skyhold, then my men will find them.”

“I too have work to do.” Solas says. “The magic protecting us has failed somewhere. I need to find the breach and repair it.”

“Can you do that?”

“I understand the magic well enough.” Solas says, a knowing smile on his face.

Cullen nods. “The Healer’s are working with the population. A few people suffered distress a result of the demons attack. Bad memories brought to the surface. Worries about the future.” Cullen looks down. “No one has been hurt as bad as…” He trails off.

Solas nods. “He will take time to recover from this.”

“What was the fool thinking?” Cullen snaps. “He should have raised the alarm. Fetched myself or the Chargers. Instead he tries to fight four demons by himself.”

Solas shakes his head. “Cole may be more human now, Commander Cullen, but don’t forget his origins. He still, in many ways, thinks like a spirit. His focus would not have been on defeating the demons, it would have been on protecting the people of Skyhold.”

“By getting the demons to attack him instead?” Cullen says, incredulous.

Solas simply nods.

The former Templar sighs. “Would that we could all be that selfless.” He says after a moment. “He did a brave thing. Stupid, but brave. Whatever my thoughts about what Cole...is, I can’t deny that.”

Solas hums his agreement. “He drew the demons away from the populace. He could very well have saved lives.” He smiles. “Which healer is attending to him?”

Cullen shakes his head. “He’s with Bull.”

“Bull?” Solas steps forward, his voice quiet. “I understand The Iron Bull’s protectiveness of Cole, especially now, but an injury to the mind is not something to be trifled with. Cole needs to be in the care of the healers.”

“He claims to have experience with Aslata.”

“Asala-taar.” Solas corrects him. “And that is a Qunari ailment. Cole is a spirit.”

“I’m sure Bull knows what...”

“Remind me, Cullen.” Solas interrupts. “Who is the Inquisition’s foremost expert on The Fade? Oh no, don’t worry. It just came to me.”

“If you wish to be the one to take that boy away from Bull, then please, be my guest.” Cullen says. “I imagine it will be YOU that ends up needing the healers though.”

Solas looks away, his annoyance clear. “I need to find the breach in our defences. I just hope that The Iron Bull DOES know what he is doing."


	3. Safety

Cole knows that it is a memory, not real now like it was then. But he lives it anyway.

 

* * *

 

“Dorian?”

 _‘Oh dear.’_ Thinks the Mage. That was Cole’s ‘ _I have an almost certainly awkward question’_ tone. Quickly checking that no one else is in the Library, Dorian schools his features and turns to face the boy. “Yes, Cole? How are you feeling?”

The boy shakes his head, rubbing at his wrists.

Dorian nods, pulling out a chair for Cole to sit in, while he himself perches on the edge of the table. “Let’s have a chat, shall we.”

“When the bandits captured me and The Inquisitor, they tied us up with rope.” Cole says, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “It cuts into your skin, burns. I didn’t like it.”

“No, I imagine it was far from a pleasant experience.” Dorian lightens his voice. “But we found you. You’re safe now. You...you know that, right?”

Cole nods, peering at Dorian from under his hat. “Dorian. Why do you let The Iron Bull tie you up?”

Oh sweet Maker, here we go.

“Um...well…”

“Ropes cutting into skin, blood can’t move right, hands numb like stone.” Cole shakes his head. “But you LET The Iron Bull do that, do that to you. And it makes you smile. Is it because of the hurt? Does it make you think you deserve to be a treated badly? Deserve to be imprisoned. Because you don’t Dorian. You’re kind. You help people.”

Dorian swallows back a lump in his throat, encouraged just by the sincerity in Cole’s voice. “Well, thank you for saying so.”

“But it isn’t that. Because The Iron Bull is kind too. He wouldn’t hurt you.”

Dorian nods. “Honestly Cole if those bandits had captured me I would be fighting those ropes same as I’m sure you did. It’s different when it is with Bull.”

“Why?”

“Because I trust him. I trust him to never REALLY hurt me. And letting him...vishante kaffas, Cole it’s not...really something that I can explain.” Dorian crosses his arms. “It’s...well, sometimes...”

He climbs down from the table, walking up and down the room as he thinks. Then he turns back to Cole. “Do you trust me?”

“You’re my friend.” Cole says, smiling.

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

Cole breaks eye contact, thinking. “I trust you, Dorian.”

Dorian nods, and steps forward, grabbing the back of Cole’s chair and pulling it away from the table, allowing enough space for Dorian to walk around Cole if he wants to. He takes Cole’s arms, and gently pulls them back, looped through the gaps in the chair’s ornate design. That done, he takes Cole’s hat and places it between his hands. “Keep hold of that.”

Cole nods, tightening his grip around the hat rim.

“Now.” Dorian stands, placing his hands on top of the chair to hold it down. “Try to get out of the chair without letting go of the hat.”

“I won’t be able to.”

“Good.” Dorian pats Cole on the shoulder. “I could restrain you for real, but giving what happened yesterday, I don’t think you’d enjoy that very much.”

He stands in front of the chair, perching himself back on the table. “So we pretend. All the time you have hold of that...frankly ghastly hat, you’re restrained. Tied up and completely at my mercy. You can’t fight back. You can’t do anything. I am free to do whatever I want. How does that feel?”

“Powerless.” Cole says, his voice small.

“Anything else?”

“Curious.” Cole looks down at the ground, thinking. “And nervous. But not bad nervous. It’s the nervous when you listen to a scary story, and the fear makes you smile. You want to know what happens next.”

“Excitement?” Dorian provides. “Wondering what your partner is going to do. What wicked plan they have for you.” He slides down from the table.

Cole watches curiously as Dorian’s hand hovers, splayed, just above the skin of his face. The mage slowly moves it down, tracing the edge of Cole’s throat and chest, where it is joined by Dorian’s other hand. They continue to hover down to Cole’s stomach, and it is there that Dorian enacts his plan, tickling him.

Dorian doesn’t think he’s ever heard Cole laugh before. It’s a strange sound, like someone playing an instrument for the first time. He supposes that the boy hasn’t had many opportunities to laugh in his short life. He’s not had a chance to practice.

Dorian hopes to change that. Starting with some more merciless tickling.

His hands dart from the stomach to the sides and back again while Cole laughs and squirms, his own hands dropping the hat and moving to try and tickle Dorian back.

“Now that is cheating.”

The fight continues for a few moments, then fizzles out, both laughing and smiling as Dorian ruffles Cole’s hair.

Then his expression softens, a serious look to his eye. He beckons Cole closer, and pulls him into a tight hug.

“What happened yesterday must have been frightening.”

“Laughs. Not nice ones like singing, but broken glass and the Inquisitor was bleeding. ‘Don’t be afraid. They will find us’ ropes and knives. They mean to hurt us.”

“Shhhh.” Dorian hushes, his grip around the boy as tight as he can make it without causing pain. “I’ve got you and I’m not letting go. I’m in complete control. I’m not going to let you move. You can’t do anything in this space except feel.” He loosens the hold just enough to run his hand up and down Cole’s back. “You can be vulnerable. I’m being strong for both of us. I’m making all the decisions. Your mind can rest. YOU can rest. I’m taking care of you. Keeping you safe.”

 

* * *

 

Cole wishes it was more than a memory. He wishes he could be there again.

He is being carried. He doesn’t know where they are taking him.

 

* * *

 

“Give me a sec.” Sera crouches in front of the door, lockpicks already in hand.

Stitches leans against the wall beside her. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Sera?”

“Creepy’s just going to keep himself awake with that mind reading shite if we stay at Herald’s Rest.” Sera explains. “Besides, Cullen says Solas is on the warpath.”

“But aren’t these Lady Vivienne’s private chambers?” Krem asks, arms crossed.

“She’s off on a jolly, and this is the last place Solas is going to look.” Sera smiles. “And means I can get back at him AND Vivvy in one go.” She snorts as, with a final click, the door opens.  She immediately rushes across the room into the washrooms “I’m bursting.”

“Thanks for the update.” Krem says as he steps into the room, finding and getting to work lighting the fireplace.

Behind him, Stitches and The Iron Bull quietly enter the room, Bull still carrying Cole as he has done since they found him. He can tell by the boy’s breathing that Cole is awake, but he hasn’t said a single word so far. He hasn’t even moved.

“Nice room.” Stitches says, nodding approvingly. “Bed looks comfy. Can I fight him for it?” He indicates Cole with a nod.

“You SEEN this kid with his knives.” Bull smiles. “You’d die.”

“Shortly followed by the rest of the Chargers because Andraste knows you lot can’t live five minutes without me.”

“Give us some credit.” Krem says from the fireplace. “Reckon we’d last ten.”

Iron Bull chuckles, but there isn’t much weight behind the expression. His arm tightens around Cole.

“Want to get that shite out of his hair?” Sera says from the washroom door. “Because _‘Madame de What’s its”_ got a proper tub in here.”

“I’ll get some hot water brought up.” Krem says, before making his leave.

“Hear that, Cole.” Stitches says. “Good hot bath. A proper luxury like that’ll fix you right up.”

Cole doesn’t answer, and Bull can see how much that worries Stitches, and that worries the Qunari. It was the general Chargers rule that if Stitches was worried, then it was time to panic and possibly make peace with the Maker.

Meanwhile, Sera laughs. “Right fancy place, this. I thought the Inquisitor had the best room.”

“Well let’s keep it tidy.” Bull says. “No stealing.”

Sera uses her finger to draw a cross over her heart. “Creepy said anything yet?”

“Let him be.” Bull says, walking past Sera and stopping to sit Cole on the thick edge of the stone tub. He gets to work removing Cole’s jacket, surprised by the complete lack of resistance. He isn’t sure if it is Cole trusting Bull not to hurt him, or Cole not giving a shit if someone does.

Or worse, Cole being too far gone to realise either way.

Cole’s eyes are open, fixed on the floor, as Bull starts to remove his shirt.

“I’ll get some potions ready for him, Sir.” Stitches keeps his voice low. “Stuff to calm his thoughts down.”

“Like drugs?” Sera says from where she is now sat cross legged on the washroom counter.

“More like painkillers for the brain.” Stitches says. “No different to taking something to stop a broken arm from hurting. It’ll just quieten things a bit for him.”

“You don’t think he’s pretty quiet already.” Sera points at Cole.

“Maybe on the outside.” Stitches says, before leaving the room.

“Krem will be here with the water soon.” Bull says as he continues to remove Cole’s shirt, leaving the boy in a vest.

Cole continues to stare at the floor, and Bull quietly picks up his hand.

“Look Kid, I get you wanting to hide in there for a while, and I’m not going to force you out of that shell before your ready. But I just need you to squeeze my hand, just once. Just, let me know that you are in there, yeah? Come on.”

He looks at Cole’s hand in his, but nothing. Not even a flinch.

“Okay, Cole.” Bull says. “I won’t ask again. You take your time. It’s okay.” He quietly rests the hand in Cole’s lap, before placing his own on the boy’s knee. “You just rest.” He drops his voice to a whisper. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Bull looks at Cole’s face just in time to see the corners of the mouth twitch. It’s barely enough to class as an expression, but it’s something at least. He has to believe that it is something.

“Let’s get you ready.” He hears humming, and turns to find Sera looking at her own hands in her lap.

“What?” The Rogue says as she feels Bull watching. “I’m not going to peak. Creepy freak wouldn’t be my type if he WAS human.” She snorts.

 

* * *

 

He’s screaming without using his mouth, shaking without using his muscles. Everything is inside. Hidden under darkness. He can feel his vest being removed. Trousers. The rest. Cold air slapping his bare skin.

No please no please no please.

He knows he deserved to hurt.

That doesn’t stop him from being scared. So scared.

 _Katoh_ . He screams the word unheard. _Katoh katoh katoh_.

It will hurt it will hurt it will hurt.

Please be quick.

They are lifting him.

 _Katoh_.

 _Katoh katoh ka_ …

Warmth.

It wraps around him, rising in the air. He breaths in the steam. His insides thaw. He’s laid back, rested on a gentle arm beneath his shoulders while water pours through his hair. He hears better now.

“...bet that feels nice. You just let yourself relax, Cole. You won’t go under, I’ll hold you up. That’s it. Sera, is there’s any soap in the cabinet there?”

“Thought you said no stealing.” She teases.

It smells of the forests. Hands that could break bones are gentle through his hair, massaging a thick lather.

“You’re going to get it in his eyes, you daft tit.” Another touch, hands as fast as when they pull back and release arrows into the world, like a bird flying. His forehead is brushed, then the hand remains, a shield from which puffs of soap falls like snow in front of, but away from his eyes.

_“I ain’t touching that thing.”_

When did he stop being a thing?

He is laid backwards again, his hair rinsed, and he finds himself looking up into a calm, single blue eye. The Iron Bull.

He’s safe. They carried him to comfort, not punishment.

He wants to cry, and he thinks that maybe that is okay.

 

* * *

 

“There’s a hair brush. Why does Vivienne own a fricking hair brush? And I don’t even KNOW what that...urgh, it’s a toy isn’t it.”

“It’s a back scratcher.”

“Long as that’s ALL that it scratches.” She snorts. “On long lonely nights…”

“Not in front of Cole.” Bull says, as close to pleading as he can manage.

“Oh come off it. He’s asexual not an Andrastian Priest.” She rolls her eyes and waves the scratcher in the air. “There, I made it a sword. Happy?”

Bull doesn’t know what surprises him the most. The fact that Sera knows what she knows about Cole, or the casual, uninterested tone she uses when stating it. As if labels are as big a deal as the weather in Ferelden in the spring.

Bull thinks he’s learning more about the elf in one night than he has in the previous year.

Bull gently leans Cole forward, running the wash cloth along his shoulders and upper back. There’s a painful looking bruise developing on Cole’s left shoulder blade, and Bull holds the washcloth in the warm water for a moment before gently pressing it against the area. He looks round to check Cole’s face for signs of discomfort, and shakes his head. “Ah, Cole.”

Noticing out of the corner of his eye that Sera has deliberately turned her back, he quickly lifts Cole out of the tub, wrapping a large towel around the sobbing boy and pulling him to sit in Bull’s lap.

“About bloody time.” He hears Sera mutter under her breath, before closing the cabinet she’s been studying and leaving the room.

 

* * *

 

He follows his own tears back into the world, feelings of warmth and safety and the softness of the towel on his skin. And no one needs help. He helped. Now he can rest. And The Iron Bull is being strong for him. He can rest here.

He doesn’t know how much time passes. It feels like forever, and it feels like no time at all.

He feels heavy.  

He senses movement to his side, and sees Sera crouching down beside them.

“So Krem’s about to thrash Stitches in chess.”

“No.” The Iron Bull laughs. “You hear that Cole, Krem’s about to make history.” He works his arm under Cole’s knees and lifts him, still wrapped in the towel, and he’s carried into laughter and smiles. Krem and Stitches staring across the board. Sera sat on the smaller of the two sofas in the room. Iron Bull sits on the other, Cole still in his lap.

Cole isn't good at chess. He doesn’t know who is winning between Krem and Stitches. Instead he watches their expressions. The laughs. The insults that Krem and Stitches throw at each other, because they are friends and they are both soldiers. He watches Sera suggests moves. And he feels Iron Bull’s arms wrapped around him.

He wants to say thank you to them, so he takes a breath...and…

_You’ll tell them what you are. And they will hate you._

He buries his face in The Iron Bull’s chest, and feels a hand come up to run through his drying hair. “Hey, you need to cry some more? You go ahead, Cole.”

He couldn’t lose them.

He couldn’t.

He…

 

He says nothing.

He simply cries.


	4. Punishment

The fire roars in the corner of Vivienne’s room, filling the space with warmth.

Stitches sleeps sitting up on the sofa, his head rested on the back. Beside him, Krem sleeps with his head on Stitches shoulder, arms crossed loosely in front of him. Both men have removed their armour, which lies in a somewhat haphazard pile on the floor in the corner of the room.

Sera is laid stretched out like a cat on the opposite sofa, one arm curled under her head as her lips move silently, speaking along with whatever dream she is currently having. She shifts, and her feet kick gently against Bull’s thigh, encouraging a chuckle from the Qunari as he moves to accommodate her, mindful of the boy dozing in his lap. His efforts aren’t quite enough to stop Cole from waking, however, and the boy fidgets slightly, hands wrapped in the material of the white sleeping shirt that they’ve ‘borrowed’ from Vivienne’s closet. Bull guesses she won’t want it back after Cole’s worn it.

Sera kicks again, muttering something about arrows and frogs, and possibly sticking frogs with arrows. Bull shakes his head and stands, Cole held against him with his head rested against the Qunari’s shoulder.

He needs to stretch his legs anyway.

Cole was already dozing again, which Bull chalks up to a combination of the warmth of the room, the fallout of the day, and the potions that Stitches had given the kid.

The potions had tasted like the honey that Cole put in Leliana’s wine.

“There you go.” Stitches had said. “It’ll make you feel sluggish. Don’t fight it. It’ll help you sleep.”

Cole knows what sluggish means, and he thinks Stitches used the wrong word. Cole doesn’t feel sluggish, he feels heavy. Like his brain and limbs are filled with grain. He feels like the sacks he sometimes helps the servants move from the storehouse to the kitchens.

Being carried now isn’t like when he was carried before. Before Cole had been confused, still being attacked by the echoes of despair demons in his mind. Fear had covered his thoughts, and he had believed that he was being carried towards further pain. Now he is drowsy from the potions, his fear muted and his mind quiet of all but calm thoughts, happy memories and an awareness of being carried, the firm pillow of The Iron Bull’s shoulder beneath his cheek, and a large hand running up and down his back.

It feels safe.

A part of Cole feels like a child as he is laid in the bed, encouraged onto his side before the blankets are tucket around him. He doesn’t know why.

_Dark cupboard. Stay hidden. Sharp kicks and pain. “Worthless.” Father shouts._

His memories of childhood aren’t like this.

He wishes, not for the first time since becoming more human, that he was the REAL Cole. That he had saved him and that Cole was here now, to experience this. This gentleness that he had never known before Compassion took hold of his hand in a pitch black pit where until then only rats had been his company.

Then he wonders if maybe there is a part of Cole still alive, living through Compassion as Compassion continues his new life on the wrong side of the Veil. Maybe there is. Compassion has Cole’s memories, his emotions, his thoughts and fears. They both like watching nugs.

Cole doesn’t know if he believes in souls, but if they exist then maybe he DID save the real Cole. And now that he is human they both have a chance at a second life. A proper one this time, filled with affection and care and friends. Even the punishments, when the Inquisitor decides he needs them, are kind.

Comforted by the thought, Cole allows himself to fall back into the moment, his eyes half lidded as he listens to the room.  Outside the first rays of sunlight are starting to peak, and he can hear birds russling. Hear The Iron Bull breathing. Stitches and Krem snoring. Sera muttering. A gentle hand on the side of his face, thumb stroking his cheek over and over and over.

His eyes close the rest of the way.

 

* * *

 

He remembers being punished the old way.

 

* * *

 

 

Cole had been, whatever he had become, more ‘real? More ‘human’? (Although he claimed he had always been human). Whatever he had become, he had been it for just over a week when it happened.

“Hey kid, can you pass me Bianca?”

Cole picks up the crossbow, turns, and trips over his own feet, stumbling.

He watches in horror as Bianca slips out of his hands.

It makes a loud crack noise as it hits the floor, and Cole flinches as if struck by the sound.

The dwarf rushes towards the bow, picking it up as gently as he might have done a sleeping kitten and checking it over for damage.

“Damn.” He mutters after a moment. “That’s going to need replacing.” He runs a finger along the scope.

“I’m sorry, Varric.” Cole says, hurriedly. “She didn’t want me to hold her. I didn’t…”

“It was an accident, Kid.” Varric says, schooling his features as best he can, but also not looking at Cole. “You just didn’t have a tight enough grip when you turned. You got to be more careful next time, yeah?”

“Is she badly hurt?”

“No. Nothing I can’t fix.” Varric looks up, and sucks air through his teeth. Cole’s expression is the one that a nug might have while looking at a dragon. “Hey, Cole, it’s alright. I’ll get her fixed, she’ll be like it never happened.” He puts Bianca on the table and steps towards Cole, beckoning for the kid to come towards him so he can show him where the damage is, and explain how he will fix it.

Only Cole hesitates, his shoulders tense.

Varric lowers his hand to his side, trying to keep his own expression calm. “What’s wrong, kid?” He takes another step towards the boy, and Cole tenses further, standing rigid.

“Cole, do you think I’m going to hit you?”

“I hurt Bianca.” Cole says, his voice quiet.

“Maker’s breath, Cole. You think I haven’t dropped her more than once.” Varric shakes his head. “Granted my arms are a bit closer to the ground than yours, but it’s fine. Not like you picked her up and threw her. Like I said, kid, it was an accident.”

“But I deserve to be punished.” He shakes his head. “ _You know what the punishment is._ ” Cole whispers. “ _The belt will teach you._ ”

“Cole.” Varric shook his head. “That’s not happening. I’d never do that to you, hey.” He steps forward. “Look at me. REALLY look at me, kid.”

Cole does so.

“I would NEVER do that to you. You understand me?”

“I won’t drop Bianca again.” Cole says. “I promise.”

“Good.” Varric smiles.

Later, at the tavern, The Iron Bull gets Varric’s temper in full force.

“Hey, you reckon him being more real now is making him remember the real Cole.” Bull considers it.

“I did this to him.” Varric looks at his flagon as if it was responsible for everything crap in the world, including darkspawn, rats and vertical impasses. “Solas was right.”

Bull shakes his head. “So the kids having teething problems. He’s got us watching out for him. He has you.”

“He thought I was going to hit him.” Varric says, sickened.

“Give him time, Varric.” Bull says, patting his friend on the back. “He’s going through a lot.”

 

* * *

 

Time gives Cole more memories. More feelings. And more fears.

He learns that he is afraid of tight spaces. And he doesn’t like being in the darkness without his knives.

He HATES rats.

And when Dorian tells him to avoid the ‘friendly fire’ he dodges, knife ready. A darkspawn falls beneath his blade, and Cole is invisible for a moment as he turns, a flash of green light being the last thing that the enemy sees to his left sees before knives are in its throat. Cole kicks away from it, spinning in the air and taking another darkspawn.

He hears a fourth behind him, ready to strike. He goes to strike first.

Only Bull has gotten between Cole and the darkspawn, intending to take the  blow in the boy’s stead. And Cole doesn’t pull back in time. His dagger scratches along Bull’s arm.  

Later, Bull hisses as Dorian gently cleans the wound.

“Honestly Bull, all this fuss. It’s not even going to scar.” Dorian says.

“Hey. A war wound is a war wound. And how many people can say they survived the kid’s knives.” Bull’s smile quickly fades when he looks at Cole, who is stood on the edge of the camp, as pale as snow, eyes wide and bloodshot beneath his hat brim.

Bull looks at Varric, sharing a fond smile before looking back at Cole. “Come here, Cole.”

Cole’s breathing hitches as he steps towards the group, eyes fixed on Bull. On his belt.

Thick metal clasps to bruise, studs to cut skin, leather straps to scar.

“The Iron Bull. I should have seen it was you. Darkness and speed and pain. Whispers in my brain so I couldn’t concentrate. I tried. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not mad, are you Tiny?” Varric suddenly cuts in, his voice loud. “You know it was just an accident. Doesn’t deserve to be punished.”

“Punished?” Bull shakes his head. “For a scratch. It barely bled.” Bull looks at Dorian. “I’ve had worse from him using his fingernails.”

“And they really didn’t need to know that.” Dorian says, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry.” Cole continues. “I really am. I’ll try to learn. I will. I’m sorry.”

“We know, Cole.” Varric sighs, shaking his head. “We know you…”

Cole shivers as hands rest on his shoulder, and he is turned to face Dorian. “Come on, Cole. How about we go for a walk along that forest path you found earlier.”

“I’m sorry.” Cole whispers one more time.

“Fuck. You weren’t kidding.” Bull shakes his head once Cole and Dorian are out of earshot. “Kid was having a panic attack.”

“He’s getting worse.”

 

* * *

 

“Perhaps you SHOULD just punish it.”

Varric doesn’t even bother to hide the annoyance in his glare, but Vivienne ignores it.

“Honestly, Varric dear, the solution seems quite simple.” Vivienne looks up at the sky as she walks between Varric and Bull. “The demon clearly believes that it needs to be punished. Best to perhaps give it what it wants.”

“Ma’am?” Bull argues.

Varric shakes his head. “Are you seriously suggesting that we punish Cole when he messes up?”

“If it helps it, then yes.” Vivienne says, crossing her arms delicately. “It needs to learn, darling.”

“And learn what, exactly?” Varric somehow manages to look menacing despite looking UP at Vivienne. “Learn that he deserves to be beaten and tortured just for being a kid? That he’s a wrong thing whose every thought and action needs correction with a BELT.”

Bull steps forward. “Varric, no one is…”

“Do you know the marks a belt leaves on a kid’s back? I do.” Varric grits his teeth. “Took him swimming in Lake Luthias. He’s got scars on top of scars all over, a lot of them stretched because he got them when he was TINY. And you want to ADD to them, Vivienne?”

“You didn’t let me finish.” She keeps her expression neutral.

“He can’t help being clumsy.” Varric looks from Vivienne to Bull. “He won’t change that by getting a lesson beaten into him. All we’ll do is just make him afraid to move. Make him afraid of US! Is that what you want? Him suffering alone.” His voice quietens, a sneer on his face. “Of course it is. You’ve hated him from the start you…”

“Varric…”

“I’m not finished, Tiny.”

“Yes, we are.” Bull says, grabbing the dwarf and starting to drag him away.

Vivienne doesn’t move. “As you say, the creature most likely spent its entire life being beaten just for existing. And then to complicate the matter it starved to death in a dungeon.”

Bull and Varric stop walking, and Vivienne resumes her position between them, stooping down so that her eyes are level with Varric’s own.

“You want the boy to stop being afraid, but it...he...is expecting the treatment he had at the hands of his father, and the Templars. Because that is all he knows. The poor thing doesn’t know what happens when he is punished by our righteous, just and kind Inquisitor?” She stands to her full height. “Because you're not giving him the chance.”

“Hey.” Bull smiles. “You might actually be onto something there, Ma’am.”

“Bull, Darling, you seem surprised?”

“Stop him from being AFRAID of being punished.” Varric smiles.

 

* * *

 

When, during an important banquet, Cole clumsily knocks a goblet of wine onto Josephine’s lap, it ruins her dress. He apologises profusely, offering to find her a new one and immediately starting a search of Skyhold.

It is not as if it is the most ridiculous crime The Inquisitor has punished. And it’s the chance they have been waiting for.

Bull and Dorian stand on one side of the Inquisitor’s chair, Varric on the other. Josephine stands at the bottom of the stairs, Cullen beside her.

All eyes are fixed on Cole as he stands in the middle of the hall, ready to be judged.

“Your clumsiness yesterday caused Ambassador Montilyet inconvenience, embarrassment and the loss of an expensive dress.” The Inquisitor leans back in their chair.

“I’m sorry.” Cole says, hat turning over and over as he holds it in his hands. The boy’s voice is so small that Varric almost calls the whole thing off. The dwarf’s fists clench at his side.

“I am really sorry.” Cole repeats, looking at Josephine.

“Be that as it may.” The Inquisitor’s forefingers form a triangle under their chin. “You understand that what you did needs to be punished, don’t you?”

Cole nods, his eyes closed as he looks down at the floor, face hidden behind his hat as he replaces it on his head. He’s trembling slightly. “I understand.”

The Inquisitor looks from Varric to Bull and Dorian, all sharing the same concerned look. They had been hoping for a bit of fight from the boy, something said in his defence. A plea for mercy even. But instead, Cole seems utterly resigned to his fate.

Varric shakes his head. They would work on that later. Right now, they just want Cole to stop being frightened of them.

The Inquisitor leans forward. “Do you have anything to say?”

“Can it be The Iron Bull?” Cole asks.

They all share another glance. “Can what be The Iron Bull?” The Inquisitor asks.

“Varric will hurt inside if it is him. You and Dorian will hurt inside if it is either of you.” Cole says. “And The Iron Bull will hurt inside too, but he is a soldier. He will make me not real until I am real again. So it hurts him less.” Cole swallows. “Cullen is a soldier too, but he doesn’t know how to make it safe. The Iron Bull can make it safe. He does when it is Dorian.”

Dorian huffs, turning awkwardly away from the group.

“And...and he knows how to make it better afterwards.” He looks up at Bull. “Will you make it better afterwards?”

Bull sucks air through his teeth, eye shining. “I’ll be there for you, Kid.”

“Cole?” The Inquisitor rises from their chair, descending to stairs to stand in front of the boy. “What do you think your punishment is going to be?”

“Snap. Teach you right from wrong. Snap. You will never learn. Snap.” He shakes his head. “Worthless creature. Snap snap snap. Should have drowned you as a babe.”

“That may be what punishment has meant in the past.” The Inquisitor smiles. “But you are part of the Inquisition now, and punishments here are quite different.” They look over their shoulder at Cullen. “Commander Cullen, if you would.”

“Inquisitor.” The soldier acknowledges their leader, and then silently approaches the boy, taking hold of Cole by the material of his coat and leading him out of the hall. Cullen is silent and remains so until they reach the armoury.

“Inside.” He says. “Go on.” Cullen gives Cole a gentle nudge, before following him in and closing the door behind them.

A row of swords rest on the floor in front of them, some dirty, others blunt. At the end of the row is a bucket, a cloth, and a wet stone.

Cullen points at the equipment. “The Inquisitor wants every blade cleaned and sharpened. No sword goes back in its scabbard until it is like new. And you won’t leave this room except to use the privy until each sword is done. Do I make myself clear.” Cullen picks up the wet stone, handing it to the boy. “You’ll be helping my men by doing this. A blunt sword will keep no one safe on the battlefield.”

Cole nods, and Cullen leaves the room.

It takes Cole hours, but The Inquisitor admires his work when it is done.

“Are punishments always like this?”

“Depends. Sometimes it might be peeling potatoes.”

“That will help the cook. I would like that.”

“Well then, I suggest you keep on being clumsy.”

Cole leaves the room, and finds himself looking at The Iron Bull, holding a jar.

“Were you waiting for me, The Iron Bull?”

“Promised you I would be here.”

“It’s alright.” Cole smiles. “I wasn’t hurt.”

 _Yes you were_ . Bull thinks. _Once. Might not have REALLY been you, but it was someone that you remember. A child._ _  
_ _And they think that demons only come from the Fade._

“They made me work in the armoury. I helped make the Inquisition stronger, Cullen says.” Cole has a tone in his voice that Bull almost wants to call excited. He wishes Varric was here to hear it.

“Hey, kid. I’ve got something for you.” He holds up the jar he is carrying. “Stitches put a salve thing together for those scars of yours. Might help some of them to fade a bit.” He smiles. “Get Varric to help you with the bits you can’t reach.”

“Thank you, The Iron Bull.”

 

* * *

 

Bull isn’t surprised to find the door to Cole’s room unlocked, opening to a small, plain bedroom. Little more than a cupboard really. A small bed sits in the corner, with a chest of drawers next to it. A shield rests on this, propped up against the wall.

Bull looks around, hoping to find something comforting. A toy, stuffed animal or a picture. He finds the salve that Stitches makes for Cole’s scars, and packs this. He also notices something poking out from under the bed. He crouches, pulling out papers and a small ink pen.

 

INQUISITOR   INQUISITOR INQUISITOR

 

Cole had written it out a few times, practicing. Then he’d written

 

QUREM    KREM CREM    

 

Shaking his head, Bull puts the writing set in his bag and stands.

He leaves the room quickly, descending the stairs, but stopping on the second floor of the tavern, outside the door to his own room. He nods.

Varric needs to know. Bull needs to get the Sending Crystal.

He opens the door, only to find the room filled with a faint chiming sound. He follows it to a crystal sitting on the mattress of his bed.

“Dorian?”

“Vishante Kaffas, Bull. I’ve been trying to get through to you for an age. Where did you drop the damn thing this time, you big oaf?”

“Kadan, what’s wrong?”

“You’re asking ME that?” Dorian says, flustered. “What happened to Cole?”

“Wait...how do you...”

“Bull, Darling.” Vivienne cuts in over the crystal. “Do you think that I don’t have security wards in my room?” Her voice lowers. “And please inform  Sera that it IS just a back scratcher.”

“Fuck.” Bull mutters.

Varric interrupts. “What happened, Tiny?”

“Despair demons.” Bull says. “They broke into Skyhold. Cole used himself as bait to stop them attacking others.”

“Great Maker.” Cassandra says. “The demons?”

“Inquisition and Chargers teamed up.” Bull grits his teeth. “Sera made sure one of them ate arrows.”

“Good girl.” Varric says, and Bull can hear the smile in his voice.

“We’re turning back.” Dorian says. “Soon as the sun’s up we’ll set off from the camp here.”

Vivienne chuckled. “The Inquisitor’s exact words were _fuck Val Royeaux_. Such vulgar language.” Her voice becomes louder, and Bull imagines that she is holding the crystal. “Do please deactivate the security wards, Iron Bull dear. The noise is giving me a headache. They are behind the plant pot in the corner. Just press your hand against them.”

“Thanks, Ma’am.”

“Oh.” She chuckles. “And I do expect payment for housing the creature. Master Aclassi will find a jacket in the drawers built into my bed. A blue one. The buttons came away fighting rogue Templars. I trust his sewing skills will cope.” Bull can hear the smile in Vivienne’s voice. “And I will of course mention if any more chores come to mind.”

Bull laughs under his breath. “Certainly, Ma’am.”

“We will see you in a couple of days.” Cassandra says. “Sooner if we can help it.”

A pause, then Varric says. “Tiny, can you take this sending crystal thing back to Vivienne’s room with you?” Varric’s voice becomes quieter. “Please, I just want to...just let him hear our voices for a bit, yeah.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”


	5. Gifts

The world felt heavy. Every sound was too loud, and the air smothered him and breathing was exhausting. Thinking was exhausting. Everything hurt, and yet everything was numb.

Varric was here earlier. Not HERE but hear. The same word but different meaning. Varric has been a voice with no body. Tevintor magic. Dorian too. Gentle voices talking from a crystal rested beside his head. Varric and Dorian were hurting, but Cole couldn’t help them.

He couldn’t help. He wanted to, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to sleep but it was less effort to be awake. He wanted to just lay there, and be heavy like the air.

Air shouldn’t be heavy.

He wants to be held again.

 

* * *

 

“Vivenne.” Dorian’s eyes widen as he carefully takes the ornate robe out of its wrapping. “This is beautiful.”

“The work of Master Tailor Parren. I had him study Tevintor fashion.” She sighs. “The darling does like to overuse the blue dye.”

“No, it’s perfect.” Dorian holds it up against himself.

“That will look good on you, Kadan.” Bull says, smiling.

“Thank you.” Dorian says to Vivienne, kissing her on the cheek.

“Well, happy birthday.” Vivienne raises her wine goblet, and all others present raise their goblets and flagons in turn while Dorian gently refolds the shirt, and turns to the next gift.

“Blackwall.” He opens the box, and smiles briefly before faking a frown. “Fereldan beer.”

“Well, some poor bastard has to drink it.”

Everyone in the room laughs as Dorian, chuckling, puts the box back on the table. “Perhaps you could help me with that, sometime?”

The warden nods. “Certainly.”

Stood behind Blackwall, Cole stands silently, wringing his hands.

The Inquisitor hands Dorian a wrapped present. “This is from me, Leliana, Josephine AND Cullen. We sort of joined forces a little bit.”

Dorian opens the parcel, and very nearly drops it. “Reflections on Tevintor History. All three volumes. This is not even in print anymore.”

“Turns out Josephine IS actually a goddess.”

“I’m glad to see the Inquisition's resources are being put to good use.” Solas says, albeit with a grin.

Cole starts to bite his bottom lip, pulling harshly at the edges of his shirt as he looks at one of the boxes on the table.

“Right, Solas's gift next I think.” Dorian announces as he opens another box. “Sweet Maker.” He lifts out a beautiful, glass orb, decorated with specks of red and orange that shine as they catch the light.

“It’s a paper weight.” Solas says, after a moment. “More a gift to myself than to you, Dorian. I’m fed up with the wind blowing your notes into the Atrium.”

“The gift that keeps on giving.” Dorian chuckles. “Thank you, my friend. It is beautiful.” He gently places the paper weight on the table, and picks up another box. “Right, this label is in Blackwall’s handwriting, BUT it says it’s from Cole.” He smiles at the boy and starts to open the box.

Cole wants the ground to open up and swallow him. He looks from the box to the other gifts on the table. Rich silk, rare books. Even Solas’s paperweight looks expensive. And what is Cole’s gift when compared to all that?

_Dorian deserves good things. Not cheap, nasty, bad..._

A pause, Dorian’s smile falling into a surprised expression. Then the corner of his mouth twitches up, and he reaches into the box, pulling out a wooden toy duck, complete with wheels.

“Tried to talk him into carving something simpler, but he insisted on a bloody duck.” Blackwall says, his arms crossed as he addresses Dorian. “He did good though, for a first project. Listens well once he’s stopped focusing on every bloody mistake you’ve made since age 10.”

Everyone laughs fondly, and Blackwall’s steps over to grip Cole’s shoulder, protective. “Reckon I could make a proper carpenter out of you, Cole, if you keep at it.”

“Yeah, that’s a good trade for a young man.” Iron Bull says.

Dorian slowly moves one of the wheels with his finger. “Cole, this is lovely.” He says, beaming. “It must have taken an age to carve.”

“It wasn’t just me.” Cole curls in on himself, hands fidgeting. “Blackwall did the wheels. And we gave the sawdust to the mice.”

“COLE gave the sawdust to the mice.”

“You said they would make nests with it?”

Dorian chuckles. “Does this fine duck have a name?”

Cole looks back down slightly. “Felix.”

“Felix.” Dorian looks back down at the duck, his expression thoughtful as he runs a gentle finger across the head. Then he puts Felix on the table and, with a nod towards Blackwall, pulls the boy into a hug. “He’s perfect, Cole. Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Cole wants to be warm again. He doesn’t want to move. He wants to move. He wants to sleep. He wants to be awake.

He needs to use the privy.

He pushes himself up into a sitting position, trembling. Why won’t his arms and legs listen to him?

“Hang on there, kid.” Large hand against his back, another engulfing his hand. “Where do you think you’re going?”

He looks past The Iron Bull to the washroom door.

“I see.” The Qunari hums, amused. “You want some help getting there?”

He does and he doesn’t. He wants to be strong, undefeated. But he also wants to be weak, healing. He closes his eyes, deciding to not decide.

“Don’t worry, Cole. I’ve got you.” Bull says, pulling Cole to a standing position and supporting him against his side with a strong, one armed hug. Cole is aware that they are alone in the room.

“Sera and the guys went to get something to eat. They’re going to bring you back some food.” Bull brings him inside the washroom, sitting him on the edge of the bath. “You handling the next bit yourself?”

Cole nods, and Bull leaves, but keeps the door ajar. Despite his numbness, Cole finds the energy to do what he needs to do, and then puts his hands in the wash bowl on the counter.

He keeps them there, studying the way his hands break the water, then studying his hands themselves. It’s easier to focus on this than anything else.

Everything else.

His legs aren’t listening anymore, so he sits on the floor, leant against the counter. He can hear voices in the main room, and he wants to be back there but he also wants to be alone. It’s confusing.

“You alive in there, Cole.”

He opens his mouth to answer. _No! Claws at his stomach._ He shivers.  

His legs won’t listen. It hurts.

He can hear someone sobbing. It takes a moment for him to realise that it is himself.

“Ah, kid.” Iron Bull pulls him close, lifting him off the ground and holding him tight. Cole reacts immediately, arms wrapping tightly around the Qunari’s neck.

“Body not working right now?” Bull says. “I know it’s scary. Those demon bastards messed with your brain last night, and that’s like messing with the body’s Kithshok, the general.” He rests a hand against the back of Cole’s head. “Once we’ve calmed you down in there, you’ll get strong again. Just need to let yourself heal.”

Cole doesn’t appear to be reassured. If anything, he seems to cry harder. Bull nods, tightening his hold. “It’s okay.”

He’s seen Cole upset before. An upset Cole normally gets either extremely anxious and apologetic, or he develops a sudden urge to shout at and hit people. The latter had once lead to Varric giving Cole a fighting pole and shouting ‘Tiny, you’re up.’.

Cole looks scrawny and pale, but he actually has a lot of strength. Especially when driven by anger. Bull felt the bruises for a week.

Bull’s never seen Cole like this before, sobbing and desperate to be held. He briefly wonders if this is what Stitches warned him about. The mind becoming so insecure and frightened that it retreats to a childlike state. Bull’s seen it before. Fully grown soldiers breaking and begging for their tammasrans. But he can’t imagine Cole’s childhood being anywhere that the boy’s mind would want to go back to.

So maybe this was a mind with nowhere to retreat to. Nowhere that was safe. Bull feels his heart clench at the thought, and his hold on the boy tightens as much as it can without causing pain.

“Tell you what, kid, you know your safe with me. So how about I take over as Kithshok for today, give your mind a good rest.” He slowly lowers Cole back to the ground, holding him up like he did before. “We’re going to get some food into you. There’s a table on that fancy balcony, you can eat there. Bit of fresh air is always good. I got you some clothes to change into, where did...Sera, where’d you hide the kid’s hat?”

“He didn’t have the frigging hat.” Sera says around the sandwich in her mouth.

“It wasn’t in his room?”

“He probably lost it fighting them demon thingies.”

Bull mutters something under his breath, then busies himself with helping Cole into trousers and a jacket, worn over what is now HIS sleeping shirt (Vivienne having confirmed that she didn’t want it back now Cole had worn it). The midday air is cool on the balcony, and a bird is playing on the wall as they sit down either side of the round table.

“Your food, your worship.” Sera speaks with a bad attempt at an Orlesian accent as she carries the large plate of sandwiches to the table. “De tranche de lard nug.”

“The what?” Bull says, confused.

“Nug bacon. It’s nug bacon. Andraste’s tits.” Sera grabs another sandwich and goes to sit on the balcony wall.

To Bull’s silent delight, Cole picks up a sandwich unprompted and starts to eat.

“Remember to chew, Cole. We don’t want a repeat of the biscuit.” Bull looks at Sera. “Where are the guys?”

“Stitches went to play hero in the healers tent, and Krem’s putting buttons on that fancy jacket thing.” She indicates Cole with a nod. “You want a drink of something?”

Cole looks at Iron Bull, who smiles. “He might want some water, maybe.”

“Why can’t HE answer?” Sera shakes her head. “Hey, Creepy, enough with the ‘not talking’ shite. They’re called words.” She points at her mouth. “Wooords.”

“Sera.”

Sera huffs as Bull grabs her arm, dragging her back into the main room and closing the balcony door.

“He…”

“No!” Bull holds up his hand. “Maybe his thoughts are too jumbled up in there right now. Or maybe not talking gives him some control.” He looks back at the door. “Or he could just be afraid...”

“Afraid of talking?” Sera says, confusion clear on her face.

“Whatever his reason, he needs us to support him right now. Don’t force him to talk before he’s ready. You’ll just make him anxious.”

“Fine.” She says, dismissively.

“I get that you’re worried, Sera...”

“I ain’t worried.” Sera spits back, defensive. “Just saying it ain’t right him not talking.”

“And it could be days before he does, maybe even weeks.”

“Weeks?” She whispers, crossing her arms. “Right.” She lets out a heavy breath, nodding. “How come you know so much about it?”

“Me and Stitches seen it before. Soul sickness, some call it. An injury to the mind.”

“Minds can get injured?”

Bull nods.

“And you think Cole’s got this soul sickness thing? How do you fix that?” Sera shakes her head. “I mean, you can’t put a bandage on someone’s fricking THOUGHTS?”

Bull decides not to point out that Sera used Cole’s name.

“Keep being his friend. Just remind him that people care about him.” Bull smiles. “There WAS something I was going to ask you to do.”

He finds his bag and pulls out the writing set. “Thought maybe you could…”

“He...I’ll have his freaking EYES out.”

“Want a rumour to fly around Skyhold, then tell it to Cole in confidence.” Bull chuckles. “He did his best though. I only found out because I spied on you two last night.”

“Oh.” Sera grits her teeth, a defensive tension in her stance.

“Hey.” Bull points at his face. “No judgement here. I think it’s sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Okay...um...good?”

“Just doing it so he reads books instead of OUR minds.” Sera says.

“Yes. Of course. Well, I think we will ALL be thankful for that.” Bull waits a moment, then rests a hand on Sera’s shoulder. “Calm now?”

“Yeah.” She shrugs, awkward.

They share a nod, then open the door back onto the balcony just in time to observe Cole putting breadcrumbs on the balcony wall, and sitting back to watch the birds fly over to them.

Sera shakes her head. “It’s like he sits there thinking ‘what is the most sickeningly cute thing I can do here?’ and then does it.”

 

* * *

 

They settle into an afternoon that Bull hopes will become routine.

Bull sits on the sofa, Cole rested on his side against the Qunari’s lap, a blanket covering him. Sera sits cross legged on the coffee table, quietly talking him through letters.

She had been slightly aggressive at first, her eyes constantly glancing at Bull, but slowly she had started to relax, and now Bull gets the sense that the elf is enjoying being a teacher. Neither are sure if Cole is taking all of it in sometimes, he seems to doze occasionally, but the important thing is that he has friendly people around him. Some positive attention. Reinforcement.

“Alright, Creepy. Which one?” She holds the parchment out in front of him.

 

QUREM   CREM   KREM

 

Cole moves his hand to point at his answer.

“Good.” She circles KREM and then writes another.

 

BALL       BULL

 

Cole points.

“No, that’s a round bouncy thing.” She snorts. “Suppose he might bounce if we throw him down some stairs.”

“I’ll bounce something…”

“Try it.” Sera smirks, and circles BULL. “Right, remember this one? Which name’s right?”

 

BLAQUALL       BLACKWALL

 

Cole reaches out, but not for either answer. It takes them a moment to realise that he is reaching for the pen.

With Bull’s help he sits up, and writes.

 

TOM

 

He settles back down on his side, curling up slightly while Bull passes Sera the pen.

“You miss him, kid?” Bull says quietly, running a hand through Cole’s hair.

“He’ll be back.” Sera says, confidently. “Just needs to finish doing that ‘finding myself’ shite all over Fereldan.” She snorts. “Reckon it’s run out of darkspawn yet?”

They both turn to look as someone knocks at the door.

“It’s open.” Bull shouts, expecting Krem or Stitches. When no one answers, Sera quietly makes her way over to the door, opening it first a crack, then the whole way.

She looks up and down the corridor, then picks up the hat sitting on the floor.

“Wow.” She says slowly. “Never seen it look so clean, Creepy.” She holds up the hat and brings it down to rest on the now sleeping Cole’s feet.

“Who left it?” Bull asks.

“Buggered if I know.” Sera shrugs. “Just the hat. Maybe IT knocked?” She snorts. “Creepy demon hat. I mean, did it come from the Fade like he did?”

“Probably.”

Sera shivers, looking at her hand. “I frigging touched it.”

She makes her way over to the balcony, all the while shaking her hand as if trying to dislodge something from it. Once outside she climbs up onto the wall, looking down at the comings and goings of Skyhold below.

She hears the main door beneath the balcony open and close, and Cullen walks into view, heading back across the courtyard and nodding his greetings at the various people he passes.

“You’re good people, Cullen.” She says quietly, before laying back on the wall and smiling up and the clouds.


	6. Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has left kudos and comments so far. I know I’ve not been very responsive (sorry) but I have been reading them :-)

Cole remembers sleep.

The Inquisition sits around a small campfire outside the Herald’s Rest. Dorian, Iron Bull and Blackwall have dragged a bench over to take up one side of the ‘campsite’, while Varric, The Inquisitor and Cassandra have liberated chairs from the Tavern to sit at the other. Solas sits on a stool at the point where bench meets chairs, while Sera sits on the ground next to the fire.

Cole sits the other side of the fire, a blanket beneath him to protect from the cold ground. He holds his hands out to face the flames, the way Varric showed him.

Around him, the conversation has taken a turn that only an alcohol fueled conversation involving The Iron Bull can take.

“So, I’m thinking Qunari soldier, and his captured Venatori Zealot.” Bull gives Dorian a sideways glance. “I have to get information about the Venatori’s plans, using ALL the means at my disposal.”

The expression that this brings to Dorian’s face causes Varric to laugh out loud.

Solas, meanwhile, shakes his head. “Really?”

“It’s just a bit of fun, Solas.” The Inquisitor says.

“Fun for those with odd minds.” Solas holds up his goblet. “Perhaps we should make that the Inquisution’s recruitment slogan.”

Bull raised his flagon. “We should totally make that the Inquisition’s recruitment slogan.”

The pair ‘clink’ their raised drinks, soon joined by Sera and her flagon.

“Come on Elfy.” Sera leans forward. “You’ve gotta have a fantasy or two lying around in there.”

“None that involve YOU, Sera, before you get excited.”

Blackwall nearly chokes on his drink, and Bull gives him a hearty slap on the back.

Cassandra sits back, wine goblet in hand. “A long lost princess, who you have just rescued from a dragon.” She smiles. “A very GRATEFUL long lost princess.”

“Oh?” Varric says, winking at Cassandra. “Tell me more.”

Iron Bull leans forward. “Do I get to actually KILL a dragon, first?”

They all laugh, and The Inquisitor rolls their eyes in an exaggerated manner.

“Very well.” Solas takes a sip from his goblet. “A mage on their harrowing, and the demon they meet.”

“And that is...dark.” Varric says.

“Are you the mage, or the demon?” Cassandra narrows her eyes.

Solas just gives her a knowing smile, before finishing his drink and resting his goblet on the ground.

“That’s creepy.” Sera slurs, before looking at Blackwall just in time to see him mouth ‘I told you so’.

“Bull, you’ve got everyone pegged?” The Inquisitor claps their hands. “What about...Vivienne?”

“Vivienne’s fantasy?”

“Oh.” Dorian stands. “Waited on hand and foot by a devout servant, worshiping her elegant beauty. Her dry wit. And her amazing taste in fashion.”

“Is this her fantasy or yours?” Blackwall asks.

“Preferring the company of men does not make me blind.” Dorian says. “The woman is exquisite.” He sighs. “Were I another man...”

“Dorian is drunk.” Solas ‘announces’ to the group.

“Pious git.” Dorian shouts, eyes fixed on Solas’s empty goblet.

“The pious git is not revealing crushes on Vivienne.” Cassandra mutters.

“I prefer the term fascination.” Dorian sips his drink.

“I’m getting her.”

“Sera, no.” Dorian cries out, attempting to pursue the elf only for Bull to pull him back.

“No, this conversation I need to see.”

“Let go of me, you brute.” Dorian turns in the grip and studies Bull’s facial expression. “You are a scoundrel, Amatus.”

“Hey, just trying to help you live your dreams.”

Dorian’s alcohol weakened stupor is probably the only thing that stops Bull from falling off the bench as the mage shoves him.

Cole looks at the fire. “I know what I would role play.”

“No.” Varric, Solas and Cassandra all speak at the same time.

“You're the one that read him Swords and Shields.” The Inquisitor says to Cassandra.

“Wait, what?” Varric looks at Cassandra. “You READ him…” He turns to Cole. “She read you Swords and Shield?”

“I like it.” Cole says. “I don’t like the Captain.”

Cassandra sips her wine as Varric looks back at her. “I am breaking no laws.” She says.

Solas raises an eyebrow. “Giving Cole’s apparent age, I think you are breaking several.”

“As Inquisitor I hereby put forward, in Cassandra’s defence, that Bull hired Candy.”

“Hey.” Bull holds up his hands. “Nothing _happened_ with Candy.”

“She said I was kind.” Cole pulls his blanket tightly around him. “A kindness that is rare. She introduced me to her friend, Maryden.”

“Not helping, Cole.” Iron Bull says, his voice low.

“You don’t need help right now?” Cole says.

“Debatable.” Solas mutters.

“Go on then Cole?” The Inquisitor beckons for him to speak up. “If you had a chance to roleplay, what would you do?”

Cole looks down for a moment, then smiles. “Be a nug.”

Dorian falls forward, close to becoming a medical emergency as he struggles to breath for laughing.

“A...nug?” The Inquisitor says, hesitant.

“Nug’s are kind, and always happy.” Cole draws his knees into his chest. “They just like simple things. They only worry about small things. It would be nice to not be afraid or worried or hurting because of big things for a while.”

The camp falls silent.

“Logic, meet Cole.” Cassandra mutters.

“Leliana told me that when it’s cold, nugs all huddle together.” Cole’s smile falls, and he shifts closer to the fire. “And the adults swap, so the nugs on the outside get to be on the inside as well, and the baby nugs are always in the middle where it’s warmest.” He rubs his hands together, then returns them to facing the fire. “She said that baby nugs are called pups.”

The Iron Bull whispers something in Dorian’s ear, who then turns to whisper in Blackwall’s ear. All three men place their drinks on the ground and then rush as one to the ground, grabbing Cole and pulling him into a hug between them as they fall sideways into a laughing huddle on the blanket.

“Don’t mind us.” Dorian says to the rest of the group.

Not a second later, the Inquisitor has joined them, smiling as Bull pulls them into a one armed hug. The Inquisitor’s other arm reaches out and grabs one of Cole’s hands.

“Joining us, Cassandra?” Blackwall says.

“I refuse to play ‘huddling nugs’ before I have finished my wine.”

“Room for a dwarf?” Varric asks.

“There’s ALWAYS room for a dwarf.” Bull says.

Dorian agrees. “Your conveniently sized like that.” He says, as he helps Varric to maneuver himself into the huddle around Cole.

“Let’s sit in the cold and drink alcohol.” Solas’s accent mimics Varric slightly. “What harm to our dignity could it possible do?”

“Shut up, Solas.”

“Do please speak up, Inquisitor.” Solas says. “I can’t hear you down there.”

“Ah, Chuckles. Let your hair down for once.” Varric smirks. “Oh, wait?”

Cassandra gently kicks Varric while turning to apologise on his behalf to Solas, only to find the Elf laughing quietly.

“Do the nugs require more blankets?” He asks while standing.

“Let me consult the pup.” Dorian says, before falling quiet. “Oh.”

The huddle separates slightly,  everyone sitting up and forming a protective circle around Blackwall.

Blackwall and the spirit turned human now curled up in his lap, fast asleep.

“Right.” Blackwall looks at each member of the group in turn. “How do I parent?”

 

* * *

 

Cole remembers sleep.

He remembers trembling on a dust covered floor, Bunny curled up under his arm, listening to footsteps getting closer and closer in the darkness.

Papa grabs his leg, and drags him out from under the bed.

Bunny screams.

_Snap_

_“_ Get UP you little bastard.”

_Snap_

“I said GET UP.”

His back is on fire. He can’t move. He curls up tighter.

“Papa!”

_Snap_

“You think I’m going to help you? You think you DESERVE help? Comfort? You weak, snivelling piece of SHIT. Stop crying!”

_Snap_

“Stop it, Papa.” Bunny screams.

“I said GET UP.”

The pain washes over him, dragging him down, making Bunny’s terrified shrieks an echo.

“You’re worthless.”

_Snap_

He tries to roll onto his back, protect it, only for a foot to press between his shoulder blades,  holding him down on his stomach.

_Snap Snap Snap_

“COLE!”

Papa crouches over him. A shadow. No. He struggles against the blankets. Wait!

“Easy, Cole. Easy. There you go. Just a nightmare.”

Arms pull him into a lap, Cole’s ear pressed against a broad chest so that he can hear a heartbeat.

“Nightmares can’t hurt you when you’re awake.” Bull takes a deep breath, and Cole can hear it rumbling through his chest.

A hand brushes through his hair and Cole opens his eyes, struggling to focus on the shadows. He flinches, and the hand stills.

Bull leans back against the headboard, bringing Cole with him.

_Weak._

_Worthless._

_“Get UP!”_

_Snap_

Cole flinches, gasping slightly as phantom pain laces across his back.

_“Get UP!”_

“Cole, what can I do to help you?”

_You don’t deserve help._

He can feel that he is trembling.

_Weak._

“Cole?”

_Worthless._

He takes a deep breath, and reluctantly pushes out of Bull’s hold. The Qunari helps him to sit on the bed next to him, a large hand rested against his shoulder. “You doing okay there, kid.”

Cole looks away, and nods.

“Stitches left some more of his potions. They’ll help calm you down.” He picks up one of the bottles from the bedside table, uncorking it quickly. “Here you go, kid.”

Cole takes the bottle from him, staring at it a moment before handing it back to Bull.

“You sure? They’ll help.” Bull leans closer. “Hey, I’ve taken stuff like this myself before. It’s nothing to be ashamed off. Wouldn’t go into a battle without armour, would you?”

Cole doesn’t move, and Bull quietly replaces the cork.

“Well, offers there if you change your mind.” He puts the bottle back. “Was it your Dad?”

Cole looks at him, confused.

“The nightmare. Was it about your...the real Cole’s...Dad?”

Cole nods, and flinches.

“That bastard is dead.” Bull says. “And even if he wasn’t. You’re not that poor little kid that he tortured. You’re a badass knife wielding demon, with the Chargers and the Inquisition at your back.” He smiles. “He should be terrified of YOU.”

Cole’s eyes close again.

“Next time that bastard comes after you in a dream, you think of that, Cole. He’s terrified of you.”

 

_Weak._

 

“Do you want me to keep talking?”

Cole nods without even realising, desperate for a voice to focus on that isn’t his own internal monologue.

“You know, you remind me of someone. Kid I grew up with back in Par Vollen.

“He was what the Tammasrans called Tal-Ashkaari.” He continues. “I guess that translates to ‘thinks in truth’ in common. He didn’t SEE the world the way most kids see it. Meant he didn’t understand a lot of things, especially other kids. He didn’t like looking people on the eye, either. But he wasn’t stupid, far from it. He was the smartest kid I knew. Just he was smart in his own way.”

The Qunari chuckles. “And one thing he hated was people around him hurting. He would go out of his way to help you, or to make you happy. He didn’t understand a lot of emotions, but he knew what a smile meant.”

Bull smiles, then it falls. “One time this vase got broken in the classroom. The Tammasrans demanded to know who it was, lined us kids up. No one was talking. So they said that everyone had to be punished. Then...then the Tal-Ashkaari kid said ‘It was me Tamma. I broke the vase.’ And he let them punish him for something he didn’t do, because he couldn’t bare the thought of his classmates hurting. He’d sooner hurt himself.

“I know he lied, because it was ME that broke the vase. It was my punishment he took. But I wasn’t brave like him, not then.”

He looks up to see that Cole is watching him, listening.

“You took on all that despair because you didn’t want anyone in Skyhold to suffer it. You could have died that night. I thought you had.” Bull closes his eye. “Just saw you laying in the dirt, and you were so still. Should have known it would take more than four demons to finish you off. You’re a tough one, kid. I know you might not feel like it right now, but not many could have survived what you did.”

 

_He’s just saying it to make you feel better._

_He cares. That’s why he’s talking to me. Worries as I walk into darkness over and over._

_He’ll leave. Just like Rhys. Just like Blackwall._

_No._

_Ask him. Go on. Show him what a pathetic child you are. Ask him if he wants to leave. You know what the answer will be._

 

Cole opens his mouth, but clamps it shut again, drawing his knees up slightly as his stomach clenches.

“Wait here, Kid. I’m going to try something.”

Bull heads over to the sofa where they had sat with Sera, and picks up the papers, board and pen. Bringing them back to the bed, he hands Cole the pen, and holds the papers up, pointing at the word Tom on the sheet.

“You wrote that yesterday.” He says. “See if you can write other stuff. Don’t worry about getting the letters right, just make the sounds best you can. It’s just for you. I won’t read it.” He takes the top sheep away, leaving Cole with a blank piece of paper to work with. “Get it all off your chest, kid.”

The boy takes the paper and board from Bull, and looks at it. He rests the pen against it, and then slowly starts to write.

For a long time the sound of the pen against the paper feels like the only sound in the room as Cole writes, hand trembling slightly, eyes focused on the task. Occasionally he glances at Bull, but for the most part he writes. The Qunari stands up, giving Cole space to work while he busies himself with the mundane task of tidying the room.

Finally, the sound of the pen stops, and Bull looks back to see that Cole is sitting with his knees drawn back tightly to his chest, eyes fixed on the paper rested on the bed beside him, face up.

Cole looks from the paper to Bull, then back to the paper.

“You keep it private, Cole. This was just an exercise for you, not for me. Already told you I’m not going to read it.”

When Cole nudges the paper towards him, Bull nods and picks it up, sitting opposite the boy on the bed.

“You’re sure?”

He waits for Cole to change his mind, then when nothing happens he starts to read.

 

GET UP   WEKE WORTHLES   DESERVE PANE…

 

It carries on with a similar level of spelling, and it takes Bull a while to translate it in his head.

“Get up. Weak. Worthless. Deserve pain. They will all leave like Blackwall and Rhys. Leave or die. I am bad…” He slows down here, struggling with the way the handwriting changes as the words become more frantic. “Inquisitor punishes me when I am bad, like Papa punished Cole. He couldn’t get things right. I can’t get things right. Never learn.  Never will.

“Nothing works. Only good at killing. There was evil in Cole, in me. That’s what Papa said. That’s why he punished.

“They should all leave me. I am only good at not being good.”

Cole sniffs, wrapping his arms tighter around his knees as he presses his forehead against them.

Bull’s hands crumple the paper close to tearing as he reads the last paragraph.

“I know I should leave. Take my knives and cut myself out of the world. But I want to stay. Please, I want to stay. How do I stop being bad? Being evil? Needing punishment?”

He scrunches up the note, mindful of the way the boy flinches but unable to help the anger that passes through him as he looks at Cole. Cole who feeds mint to cats to make them dance, who puts turnips in the fire to make soldiers think of stew, who punched a man in Crestwood because he kept calling Krem a girl.

(Krem later said that it was worth the upset just to watch the Inquisitor sternly lecture Cole while also trying to hold back a fond grin.)

Cole for whom safety and security had been a dream for so long that he couldn’t allow himself to believe that it was his reality now.

Cole who felt so much self hatred and despair that he thought he had to…

He goes back to the beginning of the page, and reads through the first bit again.

“Blackwall didn’t leave because of you, kid. He left because he needed to clear his head after that crap in Val Royeaux. You heard Sera, he will be back. And he’ll be pleased to see you. He loves you. We all do.” Bull reaches out, resting his hand on Cole’s head. “The Inquisition, it’s a family. Even Sera likes you in her own unique Sera way.

“I know, it’s hard to believe. You can’t think WHY they care right now, but you trust me, don’t you Cole? You know I wouldn’t lie. Why would I lie?” Bull lowers his voice. “Trust me when I tell you that you are wanted here. Please don’t leave. Let us help you.” Bull sighs. “Can you look up, Cole? Don’t have to look at me, just look at the door over there.”

Cole looks up, letting Bull check his eyes. Bloodshot, glassy and scared. Has he been so worried about how Bull would react to hearing his inner thoughts? So desperate for reassurance, but so frightened of what the truth might be if he asks for it.

Bull looks back at the paper, his own little tick sheet of Cole’s...how did the kid word it? Knots that needed unravelling.

“Among the Qun, The real Cole’s Dad would have been given qamek. That’s what happens to people who harm Imekari, children. They’d have turned him into a mindless labourer, cleaning shit from the guttering.” Bull stops, taking a moment to breath and remove the anger from his voice, less Cole misread its target. “Because what he did was wrong kid, HE was wrong, not Cole. Not his sister? Boss said you mentioned a sister.” Bull sighs. “Said she died.”

Cole sniffs, eyes turning glassy again as he nods.

“Hey. If you ARE just like the real Cole, then I bet he was an awesome brother.” Bull moves so that he can reach round and run a hand up and down Cole’s back. “What his Dad called punishments, what you remember him doing to you. That was abuse. Nothing else. Nothing Cole could have done as a child deserved that treatment. Whatever lies you remember, they were just that, lies. Cole wasn’t evil. He was a child. He deserves you to remember that. Do you remember him just being a child?”

_Bunny sits on his shoulders, pulling the apples down to drop in the basket at her brother’s feet. Later the farmer gives them both a slice of cake to say thank you. They eat while watching the rabbits in the field._

“Hey, that’s it. Missed that smile on you.” He runs the back of his finger down Cole’s cheek, then looks down to re-read more of what Cole’s written.

“I know that Boss punishes you sometimes, but you don’t mind those, do you? You told me you like working in the armoury and kitchens.” Bull stills his hand at the nape of Cole’s neck. “Boss doesn’t punish you because your bad, Cole. You get punished because it helps you feel better when you’ve done something wro...clumsy. You get your ‘punishment’ and then you know that all is forgiven. You know that no one is going to...hurt you.” He traces his finger along where he knows the largest of Cole’s scars sits beneath his shirt.

“Do you remember? That time you cut me while we were fighting the darkspawn. You were so upset and scared that Dorian had to take you away. You thought I was going to hit you with my belt.”

He traces along another scar. “But you don't do that now. You hit Cassandra while you were fighting those rogue templars last month, and you just apologised and got on with things. You’ve stopped being afraid. You trust us not to hurt you. And that’s all any of us wanted. That’s what the Boss wanted.” He smiles. “Do you understand?”

Cole nods, bringing a hand up to rub at his eyes and nose. The movement brings his hair across his face, and Bull instinctively reaches out to brush the strands back.

“I can tell the Boss to stop if you…”

Cole shakes his head.

“Okay.” Bull nods. “But just remember that you’re not bad, Cole. You’re not evil. Yes, you kill, but hey I kill. Do you think I’m evil? Dorian? Cullen?”

Cole shakes his head.

“We do what we have to do to protect people.” Bull says. “I don’t want you to leave, Kid. None of us do. And I’m going to start telling you that every day until you tell me that you believe it.” He moves his hand across to Cole’s shoulder. “Ready for some potion now?”

Cole nods, accepting the first bottle and drinking the medicine in two gulps, before following it with a gulp of the second bottle.

“That’s good, kid.” Bull says as he puts the empty bottles back. “Try and get some more sleep? The potions will keep the nightmares away. We’ll get you better, kid.”

Cole let’s Bull maneuver him so he is laid on his side, the blanket pulled up to cover him.

Turning to sit on the edge of the bed, Bull rests his hand on the boy’s arm. “So, one time the chargers and I were in the Fallow Mires. This was the day we found out the hard way that Rocky can’t swim...”

Bull carries on, his voice getting quieter and quieter as the boy relaxes beside him.

Cole remembers sleep.


	7. Family

The air is heavy, weighing down on Cole’s limbs so he feels like he is walking through thick snow, each step exhausting. Pulling.

It hurts.

“You’re doing great, Cole.” Stitches walks slowly, one hand rested on Cole’s shoulder as they descend the stairs to the courtyard. “I know it’s hard, but you’ll never get better by staying shut up inside all day.”

Cole’s hands fidget with the bottom of his coat as he slides one foot and then the other, face hidden by his hat. The ground makes noise, so he lifts his feet.

“Just a short walk, yeah. Once around the courtyard. Plenty of benches so we can stop to rest if you need to.” Stitches stoops so that he can see Cole’s face under the hat. It’s blank, eyes open but fixed on the floor. “You feeling okay?”

Cole shakes his head.

“Hey.” Stitches runs a hand up and down his back. “Just take it slow. You’re already a lot stronger than you were yesterday. And you’ll just keep getting stronger.”

Cole nods, and takes a single step forward on his own, then another.

“There you go.” Stitches says encouragingly, even as he gets his arms ready to catch, just in case walking proves to be too much. “Just keep it nice and slow.”

Cole takes another slightly stronger step, and Stitches relaxes, allowing his hands to fall to his side.

“Chief told me about the letter you wrote for him. Don’t worry. He didn’t tell me what was in it. He wouldn’t betray your trust like that, Cole. He just told me that you were honest with him, and it helped him to know what’s going on in that head of yours.” Stitches rests a hand on his shoulder. “I was thinking, you could write me a letter too, if you wanted. Tell me what sort of things help you to feel better when you’re feeling ill.”

Cole stops and turns to look, hat allowing, at the healer.

“Hey, everyone’s got their thing that helps. You know, I like going for walks.” He indicates the courtyard. “I find the exercise clears my head.” He lowers his voice. “Krem likes to sew. Dalish likes to sing. And The Iron Bull...well, maybe we’ll wait until your a bit older for THAT talk.”

Cole rubs at his wrists, imagining rope. Then he shakes his head.

“Yeah, didn’t think it would be your thing.” Stitches says with a chuckle. They reach a bench in the courtyard, and he sits down, encouraging Cole to sit beside him. “Let you get your breath back, yeah.”

Cole sits, eyes still fixed on the floor.

“How do you never bump into things, wearing that hat all the time?” Stitches says, genuinely curious.

Then, to Stitches surprise, Cole takes off the hat and puts it on Stitches head.

“Um...okay.” Stitches chuckles as he stands. “Seriously, you are blind. Should you be handling knives with this thing on?” Stitches starts to walk around, hands held out in front of him to feel for obstacles. “This is dangerous.”

He lifts up the front of the hat, looking at Cole, and he can’t even remember what he was going to say next.

Because Cole, sat on the bench with his hands in his lap, is smiling. It’s small, but it’s there.

Stitches lets the front of the hat fall, and continues to feel his way around the world, before deliberately bumping into a tree.

He shakes his head, and takes the hat off, putting it back on Cole’s head. “Probably best that you wear it.” He kneels down in front of the bench, tapping Cole’s hand. “Ready to try a few more steps.”

Cole’s smile falls, but he nods, and let’s Stitches pull him to his feet so that they can continue walking.

“I’ll make sure you don’t bump into anything.” Stitches says, quietly. He looks at Cole, only to notice that he has stopped walking. Stood behind Stitches, Cole is focused on the edge of the courtyard.

“Cole?”

Cole shakes his head, and walks forward towards what he is watching.

It’s a family, a soldier father, mother, two young children, twins maybe. A boy and a girl. The mother is sat cross legged on the grass, watching as the father kneels in front of the two children, both of whom are holding wooden swords.

Stitches kneels down next to Cole, looking up at the boy’s face. He’s fixated on the scene, watching as the father adjusts the children’s grip on the weapons. Then, standing and taking a few steps back, the father takes his own very real sword and demonstrates a forward thrust.

The children both stab forward into the air, shouting.

“Good.” The father says. “Okay, now back pedal.” He demonstrates and they copy him, holding the swords in a perfect block as they step back. “Left side is exposed.” They both swing. “Good.”

The mother smiles. “You look like proper soldiers.”

The children turn to play fight with their swords, but then the boy trips, falling to the ground with his hands splayed. He bursts into tears.

The father’s reaction is immediate, picking the boy up and checking his hands for injuries, the care clear in his eyes as he looks at his son, smiling.

The boy hugs his father.

“Father is here. Mother. Warm. Safe. Holding me above the ground. Nothing can hurt me here. Safe. No pain.”

Stitches takes a deep breath, deciding not to draw attention to the fact that Cole is speaking.

Cole starts to tremble. “So loved. Family. No pain here. Safe here.” Cole looks down. “I want safe.”

Cole shakes his head.

Stitches looks round to see that the family Cole has been watching is now watching him.

“Is he okay?” The mother asks, genuinely concerned.

Stitches gives her a smile. “We’re getting him better.”

The parent’s nod, before carrying their children away.

“Lucky kids.” Stitches says, softly. “They’ve got good parents. Caring.”

Cole nods, sniffing. Then, head held low, he turns away from Stitches and continues his slow walk around the courtyard.

“Cole?” Stitches says, following the boy. “Hey, are you okay?”

Cole shakes his head, but carries on walking.

Stitches watches him walk away, then looks back at where the family had been.

 

* * *

 

Bull slouches in the sofa, one hand curled under his chin as he thinks.

He’s had an idea. A good one. A dangerous one. It could backfire badly.

He will need to be careful.

In his pocket is the letter that Cole wrote during the night, already creased and torn from Bull’s anger. Anger at the demons past and present, human and fade, who had turned a child’s world into one of misery and danger. A darkness that Cole had carried long before a group of despair demons got their claws into him.  

He wishes that Cole’s father wasn’t dead.

He wants to kill him himself.

He slams his fist into the couch.

He can't do anything for the real Cole except honour him with memories. Remembering the mental image he has formed of a small boy with Cole’s face. _His_ Cole, his weird squirrely kid.

He smiles as he remembers Stitches visiting that morning.

“Come on Cole.” Stitches had said. “Time to get up.”

Cole had glared daggers at the healer, and then pulled the blanket over his head, proving that the boy had at least ONE aspect of being a human teenager down to a fine art.

Bull picks up the reports on the couch beside him, and pretends to be looking up from them as the door opens.

“Hey, you two.” Bull smiles as Cole and Stitches enter. “How was your walk?”

“He did well.” Stitches says, patting Cole’s shoulder. “Right around the Courtyard.”

“That’s good.” Bull nods, the concern clear on his face as Cole quietly, hat dropped to the floor, collapses onto the bed and curls up in the middle of it.

“Sorry Cole.” Stitches says, taking it upon himself to remove the boy’s shoes. “I pushed you too hard, I’m sorry. But you did really well. I won’t make you do anything else today. Not unless you want to.”

Cole shakes his head.

“Get some rest.” Stitches smiles, leaving Cole’s shoes by the side of the bed as he looks at The Iron Bull. “Chief?” He points at the balcony.

Putting the reports to one side, Bull follows Stitches.

Cole wants to follow them, and hear what Stitches wants to tell Bull. How slow Cole was. How he kept stumbling and tripping over his own feet. How at the end Stitches had to put Cole’s arm around his shoulder and as good as carry him. He curls up tighter. He wants to follow them, but he can’t find the energy to move. The air is too heavy.

Rats at his stomach. He feels helpless. Desperate. He wants his knives, but The Iron Bull took them away. Hid them. Because of the letter.

Cole closes his eyes, taking deep breaths as he tries to fall asleep. But even keeping his eyes closed takes too much energy. So he opens them and just lays there, staring out into the room.

He hears the balcony door open. Close. Heavy footsteps.

“Hey, little guy.” The Qunari climbs onto the bed to sit beside him, back against the headboard, and Cole feels himself being lifted and lowered so his head is on a pillow in The Iron Bull’s lap.

He hears the door open and close as Stitches leaves the room.

The Iron Bull’s hand strokes through his hair, pausing every now and again to trace small circles on the back of his neck, and Cole is going to cry. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to be weak. He doesn’t want to disappoint. But he feels tears on his face anyway.

“I got something I want to show you today. But first, you got to promise me that you can keep a secret. Because it is a surprise I’m preparing for Dorian. Can you do that? Keep it secret?”

Cole curls up a bit tighter, and holds out his hand, little finger extended.

“Yeah.” Bull taps the finger with his own. “It’s the other side of Skyhold, but don’t worry. I know you’re not feeling up to more walking today."

Cole nods.

Bull leans forward, his voice quiet. “Stitches told me about the family you listened to.”

_Holding me above the ground. Nothing can hurt me here. Safe. No pain._

Cole pulls his hair across to cover his face.

“Hey, remember a couple of months ago, in front of the tavern? When we all held you, and you fell asleep.” He rubs his hand up and down Cole’s back.

Cole nods.

“That was a family moment, Cole.” Bull says. “That was YOUR family moment. You don’t need to steal them from other people’s thoughts like you did this morning. You can live your own moments, whenever you want them. You just have to find one of us.”

Cole sighs, turning his face into the pillow.

“We can do that today?” Bull says. “Just be a family. Something nice for your mind to focus on.”

Cole can feel words fighting inside of him.

“We can play a game of chess, or practice your letters. Or we can just sit quietly like this.” Bull runs his hand through his hair. “It’s your day, Cole. But first, I want to show you Dorian’s surprise. Shall we do that now?”

He feels The Iron Bull lower him onto the bed, alone in the middle, suddenly cold. The Iron Bull stands, walks around the room, out of Cole’s field of vision. Cole clutches at the blanket, face pressed into the mattress, words clutching at his stomach like broken glass.

“Sit up, kid.” Bull helps him into a sitting position.“Okay.” He carefully takes off Cole’s jacket, leaving him in a loose vest. The jacket he replaces with a warm hooded shirt, raising the hood and pulling it forward so that it covers Cole’s face.

“Krem left this for you.” Bull explains, as he quietly adjust the shirt around Cole, ensuring it is as comfortable as possible. “He uses it on ‘bad days’. It’s nice and baggy so it hides everything, and it’s warm too. Vints hate being cold.” He pulls the hood further forward. “Covers your face the way you like, but less awkward than carrying you with the hat.”

Carrying.

_Holding me above the ground. Nothing can hurt me here. Safe. No pain._

Cole looks up at Bull, his eyes wide. Hopeful?

Bull nods, and then picks Cole up.

“There you go.” Bull says quietly as Cole presses his face into his shoulder. Carrying him, Bull slowly starts to walk around the room. “Are you okay with being carried around Skyhold like this, Cole?”

Cole relaxes into the hold, sighing.

“Yeah.” Bull smiles. “You like being held when you’re hurting, don’t you kid? Nothing wrong with that. You just rest. Take a nap if you want. I’ve got you.”

Cole does just that, only vaguely aware of the the journey that they take. Warmth on his back as they step out into the sunshine. Then the world gets quieter, the sounds of voices and children playing fading into echoes. Background. Bull steps over some debris.

“Got to watch our footing here. Some of the corridor still needs repairs.

Finally they come to a large door, and Bull carefully lowers Cole to the floor, holding him steady with a hand on his shoulder. “Okay. Here we are.”

He opens the door to reveal a large, somewhat shambolic room. Dust covers the floor and few surfaces, the fireplace, and there isn’t a single corner without cobwebs.

“Chargers have been helping recover this part of The Keep.” Bull explains. “That’s how I found this room. Red said it was all mine if I wanted it. I’m going to get it cleaned up, fill it with some comforts, things Dorian likes.” He stoops down so he is eye level with Cole. “Then I’m going to ask Dorian to move in with me.”

The corner of Cole’s mouth curls up.

“Do you think he’ll like that.”

Cole nods.

“This bit will be our room, and the washroom is over there.” He points at an ajar door on one side of the room. “Follow me, kid.”

He puts an arm around Cole and takes him to the far side of the room, where another door can be found. It opens to a small room, a fireplace in the corner, a window on the opposite wall looking out over the mountains.

“I was going to make this an office for Dorian, but I don't think he would use it. He likes the library too much.” Bull crosses his arms. “So I need another idea for this room, when we move in.”

Cole slowly walks into the middle of the room, looking from the fireplace to the window.

“Do you like it?”

Cole nods, looking out the window. There are birds. He places his hands on the windowsill as he watches them.

Bull steels himself with a small breath. Here goes nothing.

“I think this could be YOUR room, Cole.”

Cole tenses, looking down at the floor before turning to look at Bull.

“Why not? You, me and Dorian. We could look out for each other here, look after each other. Be a family. Dorian already acts like a big brother with you.” Bull crosses his arms. “You don’t have to LIVE here if you don’t want to, Cole. You can just visit and stay now and again, when you’re feeling lonely or insecure about things. OR this can be your home. Whatever you decide, this room will be yours. Somewhere where you’re ALWAYS welcome and wanted. And we’ll decorate it however you want.”

“Thank you.”

The words rush out, and Cole feels like a drowning man catching his breath, only he can’t breath, hands grabbing at the air as if trying to pull the words back in.

Cole whispers the words, but he feels like he screamed them, that they are now echoing around Skyhold.

If Bull is at all surprised at Cole speaking, then it doesn’t show in his voice as he places a hand against the back of Cole’s hooded head. “You’re welcome kid. Always.”

Cole looks back into the room. He isn’t very good at imagination. Varric is helping him, but he still struggles with the idea of thinking of things that aren’t real. But this, now. He can MAKE this real. He can SEE himself living in this room. Being wanted. Being a family.

He feels tears on his face. Tears for the real Cole. For the kind family home he is finally going to have.

Maybe it is the real Cole crying. The part of him that Compassion kept alive.  

He feels himself being lifted up again and he feels tired, like no amount of sleep will ever be enough.

He doesn’t think he feels happy, but he no longer thinks that he will never be happy again.

“Thank you.” He says again, quietly.


	8. Special

Cole pulls the hood further forward, hiding his face. He is strong here, walking normally. He puts his hand on the door and pushes it open.

He steps into the room, looking up at the painted walls. He’s always liked them.

“Good, you’ve arrived” The voice is behind him.

Cole wraps his arms around himself, and turns to face Solas.

“Good evening.” Solas smiles, putting the papers he is carrying on the desk before approaching the boy, pulling him into a hug. “I understand that Iron Bull took you on a trip around Skyhold today?”

 _THE Iron Bull._ Cole thinks. _People always leave that bit out._

“Of course. I apologise.” Solas steps back and invites Cole to sit at his table. “I spoke to your friend Stitches earlier. He told me of your progress this morning. He was pleased. I am too.”

Cole doesn’t react, except to look at the table.

“No potions tonight.” Solas nods. “It’s good that you feel able to sleep without them. But do not hesitate to use them if you need to. You would not deny medicine to the ill. And this is illness, Cole.” Solas stands behind the chair, placing a hand on each of Cole’s shoulders.

“Shall we begin.”

And the Atrium is gone. Cole isn’t dreaming about it anymore.

They sit in a black void. The chair is the only thing that remains of the room.

“You will not remember me having been here. I will fade into the background. Focus on yourself. Memories that you want to relive. Yesterday I helped you relive memories that made you feel safe. Tonight, think of memories that make you feel special.” He speaks into Cole’s ear. “Be at peace now. Elgara vallas, elgar da’len. Melava somniar.”

Cole closes his eyes.

It is a dream inside a dream.

 

* * *

 

_You are you. And you are perfect._

 

* * *

 

Cole looks in the mirror, lifting up his hair so that his eyes are clear. He puts a finger on his nose, moving it from side to side. Then he runs the finger under his eyes, noting the redness of the skin there.

He puts a hand on his shoulder, feeling the skin and muscle, and slowly moving down his arm, all while watching in the mirror.

The door opens behind him, and Cole hears books being dropped to the ground.

“COLE!” Dorian immediately looks down at the books, an amused smile on his face as he covers his eyes with his hand. “Why are you stood naked in my room?”

“Your room has a mirror.”

“Of course.” Dorian nods. “Well, nothing wrong with a bit of self discovery, so I’ll leave you to...”

“Dorian. What’s wrong with me?”

Dorian lets out a slow breath and then grabs a blanket from his bed, wrapping it around Cole. “Why do you think that something is wrong with you?”

Cole looks back at the mirror. “Imshael said that the Inquisitor wouldn’t want me.”

“Of course they want you, just not as a lover, that’s all.” Dorian gets to work picking up Cole’s clothes from the floor and putting them on a nearby chair. “The Inquisitor sees you as a friend, Cole. A good friend. They won’t want to risk that, or risk hurting you.”

“It’s not because I’m not normal?

“You are you, Cole.” Dorian says, kindly. “Why would we want you to be normal? It would change who you are, and not for the better.”

“My body isn’t normal.” Cole starts to open the blanket, and Dorian just manages to stop him.

“How is it not normal?”

“I don’t want?”

“Want?”

“Sex.”

”I see.” Dorian suddenly wishes that he had some wine to drink.

“When I think about it, I don’t feel or act the way people do in Varric’s books.”

 _‘There’s an image.’_ Dorian thinks.

Cole looks at the mage. “Sometimes I just feel nothing. Sometimes I feel the way I did when I ate too much of the cake. Do you remember?”

“I’m sure the scullery maid does.” Dorian chuckles.

”I can’t make myself want.” He looks at the mage, eyes desperate. “People are supposed to want. What am I doing wrong?”

Dorian closes his eyes, somewhat hopeful that he will open them to learn that he has just hit his head on the bookshelf and this is all a very strange dream.

“Look, Cole.” He opens his eyes. “If you truly feel that something is wrong with you, then I can go with you to the healers. But, just not wanting sex, that isn’t really something that you need to worry about or try to fix, not if you don’t want to.”

“It isn’t?”

“Of course not. Lots of people don’t, as you so politely put it, ‘want’ when they are your age. Lots of people don’t want when they are my age.” Dorian smirks. “I appreciate how being friends with Bull can lead a man to believe otherwise, but sex isn’t everything and everyone. It’s not like eating or breathing…”

“But the Knight-Captain says…”

“Please stop taking life advice from Swords and Shields.”  Dorian pleads. “Honestly Cole, you are as obligated to be sexual as I am to become a bard.”

“You would be a good bard.”

“Of course. BUT it doesn’t interest me, that was my point.”

Cole looks down at his feet. “I’m not broken?”

“No, you are absolutely fine.” Dorian places a hand against the side of Cole’s face. “You’re young. You might start to want in time, but then again you might not. It doesn’t matter. You have so many other good things to share with the right person.”

“I do?”

“One day, you might meet someone who makes you smile just by walking into the room, and you will want to spend every waking moment with each other.” He stands beside Cole, looking into the mirror with him. “Eating food. Watching stars. Just sitting side by side, talking. Making them happy in your own unique ‘Cole’ way, because THAT will be what they love about you.” He puts his hand on Cole’s back. “That’s a perfectly good relationship, if a relationship IS what you want. You might decide that you are happy to just have your friends around you. And that is okay too.”

Cole nods, making eye contact with Dorian in the mirror.

“But listen Cole, this is important.” Dorian’s face is stern as he turns Cole to face him. “If you do pursue a relationship one day, you must NEVER feel that you have to force yourself into a situation that you find frightening or unwanted. Nor should you force someone else to do anything THEY dislike. EVER. No matter the reasons. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” Cole looks back at the mirror. “Could someone love me the way you love The Iron Bull.”

“How could they not.” Dorian smiles. “Now, may _I_ have the honour of being your first kiss?”

Cole nods, pulling the blanket tighter around himself as Dorian’s hands take hold of either side of his face. The kiss to Cole’s closed mouth is light, held for a couple of seconds before Dorian moves up and presses his lips to the boy’s forehead.

“You are you.” He says against the skin. “And you are perfect.” He steps back, and slides his hands down to Cole’s shoulders. “Alright?”

“Yes.” Cole says. “That made it feel like rain inside my head.”

“Well. I’ve had stranger feedback I suppose.” Dorian chuckles. “Now get dressed. I’m going to treat you to dinner..”

 

* * *

 

The blackness returns, and Cole is sat in the chair.

“Dorian is wise, for his years.” Solas says.

Cole drifts again.

 

* * *

 

It will become known in the Inquisition records, courtesy of Sera, as “Creepy’s shite week.”

Cole’s new found humanity, with its fledgling immune system, meeting every cold and flu bug in Skyhold.

Cole coughs as he steps through the library door, and round the upper main hall walkway to Vivienne’s favourite spot.

“Ah, there you are, demon.”

“The Inquisitor said that you wanted to see me, Vivienne.” Cole says, before coughing again.

“Yes, as much as I detest calling upon the aid of a creature such as yourself.” She doesn’t let the distain hide in her voice. “I find myself in need of your help. That is what you claim to do? Help?”

“I can help you.” Cole says, quietly.

“Delightful.” Vivienne says, sternly. “A high ranking Duke will be visiting Skyhold in a few days. He is bringing with him his seven year old son.”

Cole nods, and coughs.

“While clearly entertaining children is beneath me, the minds of the young tend to remember what impresses them, and then sing praise to their elders. Therefore, if I am memorable to his son, I will become memorable to the Duke. Such is The Game. Sit on the floor”

She looks down at Cole as he sits, his legs crossed.

“I need to decide on some spells to entertain the boy. And seeing as I don’t have a child to work with, I have resorted to the child minded. So, you will provide feedback. Spell one.” She clicks her fingers.

And a rabbit jumps on to Cole’s lap.

It’s see through, a white outline like when a rogue enters stealth. But it feels real enough as it sniffs at Cole’s face and hand.

He hugs it too him, smiling as the whiskers tickle under his chin.

Time passes, and the rabbit fades.

“Suitable?”

“The rabbit was kind.” Cole says.

“Yes. Right, spell two.”

And fireflies buzz around Cole’s head, asking to play chase. He laughs, and as he looks round he sees that Vivienne is smiling as well.

 

* * *

 

“Vivienne will most likely never truly accept you into her heart, Cole. A lifetime of fear and indoctrination is not easily overcome. But even she can see how unique you are. Precious.”

 

* * *

 

“Okay, hold her steady, kid.”

Blanca is heavy in his arms. He holds her tight, not wanting to drop and hurt her again. Varric’s hand is against his mid back, the other pointing at the target. “Take a deep breath, and just gently squeeze the trigger. She’ll make a snapping sort of sound, don’t jump. You’ll throw your aim.”

Cole looks at the target from under the brim of his hat. He points at it, takes his breath, and shoots.

The bolt embeds itself into the edge of to the target.

“Good. Nicely done.”

“She worked for me.” Cole says, feeling warm. “She didn’t before.”

“No. Guess she didn’t want to help kill that Templar before.” Varric chuckles, a hand against the back of his head.

“She knew it wouldn’t help.” Cole says.

“Right. So, now you have to reload her. Take the bolt, see that mechanism there…”

 

* * *

 

“I can see in Varric’s face how proud he is of you. Focus on the way that makes you feel, Cole.” Solas says. “Take those feelings back into the waking world. They won’t stop the despair, not instantly, but they will make you stronger. I’ll visit you again tomorrow. Tel’enfenim, elgar da’len.”

 

* * *

 

Cole is awake now.

“Okay, little guy. It’s just a tea. There you go.” Cole feels the cup against his lips, and parts them, welcoming the warm liquid. He can taste that it has honey in it.

Bull’s large hand rests against Cole’s forehead as he takes the cup away.

Cole feels miserable. It’s the only word he can think of. Everything hurts and his mind is a fog and he just wants to sit and not think.

He was getting better, why is he worse now? He should be happy, everyone is helping him and he still feels like this. All the good things he’s been remembering, people caring. And he STILL feels like this.

_Ungrateful brat._

He feels guilty, which makes him feel more miserable, which makes him feel more guilt, more misery. Spiraling down and down and down. The potions only slow it.

He pulls the blanket over his head, and curls up tightly, eyes screwed shut. He can feel himself starting to cry.

“Hey, kid.” The Iron Pull tugs the blanket down until he can see Cole’s eyes. “What do you need?”

Cole wants to just hide here, and not be part of the world anymore. He can’t think of anything he wants more, except maybe...he wants The Iron Bull to hold him again.

_Stop acting like a child, you selfish..._

His father is right. He needs to stop thinking about himself.

He points at The Iron Bull’s chest.

“What do _I_ want to do?”

Cole nods.

Bull rests his hand on Cole’s shoulder. “Need you to do something for me. Can you just hold out your hand.” He gently picks up Cole’s wrist under the blanket, encouraging the arm out. “That’s it. Can you open and close your hand?” Bull demonstrates, holding his own hand in front of Cole and opening and closing the fist.

A pause, then Cole slowly does the same.

“That’s good, Cole.” Bull says, rubbing his back. “That’s your watchword, okay. I start doing something you don’t like, or you  start to feel uncomfortable, then you just do that with your hand and I stop. No questions asked. Do you trust me to stop if you ask me to?”

Cole nods, but also tenses. What does The Iron Bull want to do?

Giving the boy a large smile, Bull reaches into his bag next to the bedside table, pulling out the jar of salve and placing it on the bed beside him. Then slowly, giving Cole plenty of time to react if he wants to, he turns the boy onto his stomach, hand rested on the pillow by his face, where both he and Bull can see it.

“I’m going to put some of the salve on your scars.” He says, resting a hand on Cole’s back. “Just the ones above your waist. I know you have them lower down than that, but I think you won’t like me touching there.” Bull takes a generous helping of the salve. “Okay, Cole?”

Cole nods, and Bull quietly pulls the blanket down to pool at Cole’s waist. Then he pulls the sleeping shirt up to just under Cole’s neck, exposing the boy’s back.

“Are you warm enough?”

Cole nods.

“Okay. You let me know if that changes.” He taps Cole’s hand, then starts to apply the salve over the largest of the scars, an ugly streak of broken skin from just below Cole’s right shoulder to just above the left hip. It’s stretched, and Bull doesn’t want to think about how young Cole was, how small, when he got it. Once the salve is applied, he starts slowly massaging it into the skin.

“You were smiling in your sleep, earlier.” Bull says. “Were you dreaming about something nice?”

Cole shifts slightly and Bull steps back, eyes fixed on Cole’s hand, and then giving a quick sigh when he realises that the boy was just getting himself more comfortable.

Bull returns to his task. “Among the Qunari, only the saarebas can dream. Rest of us just fall asleep and wake up in the morning. Means we don’t get nightmares, but...means we don’t get the good dreams as well. Maybe being tal-vashoth now, I can learn. Maybe you can teach me?”

Cole doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know how to dream. He just...does.

“Candy’s been asking after you. They heard you wanted the baby to be called Sophie. They like it.”

A single tear slips out of Cole’s eye, sliding down onto the pillow. Bull pauses, drying his hand on his trousers and then resting it on the side of Cole’s face. “Hey?”

Cole just shakes his head.

Bull sighs. “Do you want me to stop?” He taps the boy’s hand.

Cole shakes his head.

Bull runs a hand up and down Cole’s arm, then returns to applying the salve. “I do massages like this with Dorian sometimes, only using oils rather than a salve.” He leans closer to Cole. “He can forget that he deserves to be cared for. He forgets that he is unique, amazing.

_‘Special.’ Cole mouths the word._

The Iron Bull nods. “So I do stuff like this, personal attention, to remind Dorian how loved he is.”

The corner of Cole’s mouth twitches. It’s far from a smile, but Bull takes it for what it is as he continues, humming a tune he’s heard Dorian sing on occasion.

When he is finished, Bull pulls the shirt back down and helps Cole to sit up, retrieving his discarded shirt from the end of the bed.

He helps Cole into the shirt, hood up. He can see the change to the boy’s face, his exhaustion showing, and Bull gently taps Cole’s hand. After a moment, he lifts him against his chest, getting up off the bed and walking over to the balcony.

“There we go.” Bull whispers, looking out into the evening from the corner of the balcony. There’s still plenty of activity to be seen, and Bull stands by the wall, turning so that Cole can see it all from where he is sat in Bull’s arms.

“I’m just going to stand here and watch the world for a bit, kid. Lot’s to focus on down there. Just watch the world. Nothing else to think about. Just this moment. Just here.”

Cole watches friends dance in front of their tent, one of them playing a lute. He watches a maid empty a water bucket onto the grass. He watches the guards patrol. He watches a bird settle to sleep on a branch.

Cole watches the world, and thinks that maybe being a part of it isn’t so bad after all.


	9. Skyhold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has left comments and kudos <3 <3 <3

Cole sits on the edge of the bathtub, dressed in his smallclothes and vest.

“Cullen’s called a meeting of the Inner Circle.” The Iron Bull is saying as he lifts up Cole’s arms one and then the other, cleaning them with a warm washcloth. “Probably best you sit this one out, kid.” He dips the cloth in the water bowl, and then runs it around the boy’s neck and chest. “We’ll be talking about the demon attack. That’s the last thing you should be focusing on right now.” The Iron Bull pats at his skin with a small towel. “Charger’s are helping with patrols, but Mother Giselle’s offered to sit with you while we’re meeting, so you're not lonely.”

Cole doesn’t know if he is allowed to be friends with Giselle. He likes her, she helps people. But he knows that Dorian doesn’t like her. Will Dorian hate him for being friends with her? He doesn’t want to lose Dorian’s friendship.

But surely The Iron Bull wouldn’t let him do something that risks upsetting Dorian.

_You’re a threat. He doesn’t want you around. So he’s going to make Dorian hate you._

_He DOES want me around. The room…_

_You’re not in the room yet._

“Do you want to wear Krem’s shirt again, or do you want your hat and jacket?” He holds Krem’s shirt in front the Cole, but when the boy shakes his head, The Iron Bull smiles and grabs the jacket from where it is hanging on the back of the washroom door.

He hands it to Cole. “Can you manage the trousers and shoes yourself, kid?”

Cole nods, standing slowly as The Iron Bull passes him the clothing.

The Qunari pats his shoulder, and then leaves the washroom while Cole finishes dressing. There is a knock on the door, and it opens to a young servant.

“Jemimah?”

“Yes, Ser.” The servant gives him a bow, and then gets to work tidying the room.

“Jemimah’s going to fix the room up ready for Vivienne tonight.” Bull says as Cole emerges from the washroom. “You and me are heading back to the tavern.”

Jemimah giggles slightly, before pulling her face into a plain, innocent expression as Bull looks at her.

Bull picks up his packed bag, and then puts Cole’s hat on his head.

_Be strong._

_Maybe he’ll be proud of you._

Cole keeps his head low to hide the exhaustion in his face as he takes a step forward.

“See how far you can walk, but you’ve got your watchword if you need it.” He opens and closes his hand.

Cole does the same, but only the once. He walks towards the door under his own steam.

“Getting stronger every day.” The Iron Bull says, his hand rested on the boy’s shoulder.

Cole squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ignore how every simple step feels like climbing a mountain.

_Why are you so weak?_

 

* * *

 

The Inner circle stand around the war table, eyes fixed on Cullen.

“I had planned to wait until the Inquisitor’s return, before discussing the demon attack, but...” Cullen waits for Leliana’s nod, and then continues. “Yesterday afternoon, Cabot reported concern for one of his patrons. He said it was unheard of for them to not be seen for so long in the tavern, and giving recent events…” Cullen checks his reports. “They weren’t found in their room, and a search of Skyhold was started. We found them last night, in one of the old stores. Throat slit. And runes on the ground.”

“Blood magic.” Solas says what they are all thinking.

“So that’s how those demons got past the Skyhold gate.” Sera‘s teeth are gritted. “They got fricking SUMMONED in here.”

“Venatori spies?” Josephine asks.

“Most likely.”

“Well, shit.” Iron Bull grips at the edge of the war table.

“Has anyone left or arrived since the demon attack?” Leliana asks.

“No.”

“Then we must assume that the Venitori are still here.” She shakes her head. “And preparing to attack us again.”

“So...more demons?” Sera asks.

“We will increase patrols.” Cullen says. “If anyone asks, we say it’s a precaution from the first attack. No need to cause a panic.”

Bull and Solas both nod.

“And my people will inspect our Tevintor guests. Some are allies, like Dorian…”

“Dorian wasn’t even HERE, Red.” Bull says, leaning across the table towards her. “And he HATES blood magic…”

“I use the name only as an example.” Leliana raises her hand. “No one suspects Dorian in this.”

“Bull makes a valid point, though.” Josephine says. “We must be careful not to start a witch hunt.”

“Agreed.” Leliana nods. “My people know to work discreetly.”

“There is also the matter of Cole.” Cullen sighs. “We should make arrangements to get him away from Skyhold, until we have found the Venitori.”

“Are you shitting me, Cullen?” Bull stands to his full height. “I just spent two days convincing him that we want him around. What’s sending him away going to tell him?”

“Bull, I KNOW what it is like to have your mind meddled with. Trust me when I tell you, Cole will not survive another attack by these monsters, if it happens.”

“They’ll have to get through me first.”

“I agree with Iron Bull.” Solas says.

“Solas I…” He realises what Solas just said. “What?”

Solas looks at everyone in turn as they face him. “Cole’s mental stability is fragile, and sending him away from Skyhold could prove catastrophic. At the moment, the boy is flourishing under the care that Iron Bull and his Chargers are providing. It would be a crime to remove him from that. I trust them to be able to protect him. And I will help any way that I can.”

Cullen smiles. “I thought you wanted him with the healers?”

“And I do not think I was wrong to suggest that, Commander Cullen.” Solas looks down. “But, I have spoken to Cole in his sleep more than once since the attack.” He looks at Bull. “I WAS wrong to think that he should not be in your care, The Iron Bull. I apologise.”

Bull returns the small smile.

“So Creepy stays in Skyhold, and we make sure those demon bastards don’t get within ten feet of him or anyone else. Job done.”

Leliana looks at Bull. “Where is the boy now?”

“Giselle has him."

 

* * *

 

Cole focuses on the porridge he is eating. How it smells, how warm it is in his throat. The taste.

The cook has added his favourite jam.

He eats it slowly, leaning over the bowl.

Mother Giselle sits beside him in the small room, drinking a tea. After a moment, Cole sits back, offering her the spoon.

“Thank you, Cole.” She smiles, and shakes her head. “But I am not hungry. You enjoy it all.”

Cole thinks. Is he enjoying it? Yes. He thinks he is. He takes another spoonful, letting it sit in on his tongue for a moment, filling his mouth with flavour, before swallowing.

“Do you consider yourself Andrastian?”

Cole remembers going to the Chantry, hugging Bunny tightly so that she doesn’t fidget during the sermon.

He remembers praying in the cold, dark dungeon. Rats biting at his skin. Begging The Maker for deliverance.

Maybe that was what Compassion was? The Maker answering Cole’s prayers? He doesn’t know. Does he feel like a prayer? What does a prayer feel like?

Slowly, he shrugs.

“I will not tell you what you should and should not believe. That is for your heart to decide.” Mother Giselle carefully puts her mug on the table. “But I believe that spirits like you are the children of The Maker. The first children, made even before this world. And one day, The Maker will welcome you by his side with pride, thankful of all the good his child has brought to this world.”

Cole takes another spoonful of the porridge.

“But you have much more good to give before that day comes.” Giselle rests a hand on his arm, and Cole looks at it before looking at her, head tilted so his eyes are hidden beneath his hat.

“May I pray for you, Cole?”

Cole nods, and rests his spoon in the now empty bowl, pushing it away. Giselle’s face is peaceful as she prays beside him, and after a moment Cole closes his eyes as well, mimicking her pose with his hands rested in his lap.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually he senses a presence at his other side, and opens his eyes to find The Iron Bull looking down, an amused glint in his eye.

“I leave you with her thirty minutes, and you’re praying like a priest?”

Cole fidgets. Is he embarrassed?

Giselle rests her hand on Cole’s shoulder while looking at The Iron Bull. “Perhaps you would rather I arranged a Tamassran for Cole’s religious education.”

“Technically, the Qun isn’t a religion.”

“Then I see no reason for us not the co-exist peacefully.” Giselle chuckles, and then stands. “He has eaten, but not said a word.” She smiles at Cole. “It is alright, Cole. I understand finding comfort in silence.” She turns back to Bull. “I trust the war council was productive?”

The Iron Bull tenses EVER so slightly, so that had Giselle not already been watching him like a hawk, she wouldn’t have noticed.

“Trouble?”

“We’re handling it.” Bull says quietly, before turning to Cole and visibly brightening his demeanour. “Ready to head home, kid? Bet this little outing has left you tired.”

Cole shakes his head, but also stumbles as he stands, leaning against Bull. The Qunari wraps an arm around the boy, holding him up.

“Thanks, Revered Mother.” Bull says.

“It was no trouble.” Giselle smiles at Cole. “I enjoyed our time together, Cole.”

Cole smiles at her, before looking down. Securing his arm around Cole, Bull nods his head towards Mother Giselle, and then guides the boy out of the room and towards the Herald’s Rest.

“So, Cole. Do you want to stay in my room with me tonight?”

Cole nods without realising. He doesn’t feel ready to be alone.

_Coward._

“Let’s do that then. Thought maybe we could sit on the bed and read a book together.”

“The Iron Bull?”

Bull stops walking, turning to face Solas as he approaches.

“Hey. Thanks for the support back there.”

“I meant what I said.” Solas says, resting a hand against Cole’s back. “I was just thinking, Cole, that perhaps you would like to sit in your NEW room for a bit.”

“His new room doesn’t have any furniture. And how do you know about…” He looks at Cole, smiling. “How does he know about the room?”

Cole looks at Solas and nods, before looking up at The Iron Bull.

“Okay, kid. New room it is.” Bull indicates the direction with a sweep of his arm, and they begin their journey.

Or, rather, Bull and Solas do.

Cole looks in the direction of the new room. The distance is already in his mind, and his legs ache, his arms hurt. He just wants to lay down. But he wants to see the room. He wants to be somewhere where he is wanted. He wants to imagine a family home again.

He wants to close his eyes and not exist.

He wants to be strong.

But he needs...

_Don’t do it. Be strong. Walk there. Show him you’re not weak._

Cole closes his eyes…

“Bull?” He hears Solas say.

Cole holds up his hand, opening and closing the fist...

_Pathetic. Weak. Tell Cullen to make you tranquil. Least then you’ll be SOME use to people._

“Okay, kid.” Cole feels The Iron Bull remove his hat. “Do you mind carrying that?”

“Of course not.” Solas says.

The Iron Bull lifts Cole up, before turning to look at Solas. “He...um…”

“No need to explain.” Solas says, his tone friendly as smiles at Cole, only for the smile to turn to a concerned frown when Cole turns his face into Bull’s shoulder.

Bull resumes walking, and Solas joins him.

“Knight to F3.”

Bull chuckles. “Ben Hassrath to F6.”

They continue their journey, quietly passing chess moves back and forward while Cole listens, concentrating on the feeling of safety and security that he currently has.

It still seems strange to him that something as simple as being held can help so much. He regrets only holding the real Cole’s hand, instead of embracing him. Instead of letting him rest like this, with his head against Compassion’s shoulder. Maybe carried, if Compassion had been strong enough. Held above the ground. Safe.

But Compassion hadn’t known. The real Cole had no memories of this. Neither knew that you could comfort like this.

 _You failed Cole_ . _Useless. Who have you ever really helped?_

Cole shakes his head, closed eyes tensing. He feels The Iron Bull’s hand run up and down his back.

“Here we are, kid.” He is lowered to the ground, and he feels Solas put his hat back on his head before placing a hand on each of his shoulders. He hears Bull open the door, and then...

“Surprise.” Sera’s voice says.

Cole looks up.

 

* * *

 

During the night, the people of Skyhold have been busy.

While helping Cole to access comforting memories, Solas MAY have learned about The Iron Bull’s plans involving a certain room in Skyhold. And how Cole already thought of it as home.

Solas MAY have disclosed those plans to Sera.

Sera MAY have told the kitchen staff. In passing.

As soon as word gets out, a group of servants descend on the rooms like a thing possessed, making short work of removing cobwebs, cleaning the floor and stocking the fireplaces. While this is happening, Cabot elects himself chief of furniture, recruiting the tavern regulars to move one bed and, after emptying the contents into crates, one chest of drawers across Skyhold from Cole’s old room to the new. Then, a search begins for more items.

Soon, Cole’s new room has a bookcase that Josephine ‘wasn’t using anymore’, and a new mattress on the bed that Cabot had ‘lying around’ the tavern storage. A small box sits tucked up under the bed, containing puzzles and games gifted by the the Chantry schoolroom, including a chess board.

When Sera next enters the room, it is to find Cullen setting up the chess board on a table by the window.

The elf studies what is looking more and more like a boy’s bedroom. Some books have ‘somehow’ found their way to the shelves, and the shield from Cole’s old room is now hanging on the wall. On the bed is a stuffed nug.

“That one of Krem’s?"

”I believe so.” Cullen places the last piece on the board.

“Guys did great.” Sera says as she turns slowly in the middle of the room before heading back to the main chamber. Carpenters are still working to put together a large bed that king size doesn’t seem the right word to describe. Far from having room and strength enough to accommodate one Qunari and one Tevintor Mage, Sera’s pretty sure they could sleep half the Inquisition on it.

Near the fireplace two sofas sit in a v shape around a rug. Two large wardrobes take up the far wall, one either side of the entrance.

Sera smiles, feeling accomplished as she sits on the sofa. “Well done.” She says to the wall, speaking to Skyhold in general.

“Commander Cullen?”

“Yes recruit.”

“Sorry to interrupt, Sir. But you’re needed in one of the old stores. They’ve...they’ve found something, Sir…”

An few hours later, the war council is summoned.

 

* * *

 

Now, stood next to the finished bed, Sera can’t help the huge grin on her face. “So, what you think?”

“You...this is…” For maybe the first time in his life, The Iron Bull is at a loss for words as he looks around the room. It’s not often that people get one past him.

He remembers Jemimah’s innocent giggle that morning.

“You should have everything you need to comfortably move in today.” Solas says. “And there is water in the washroom, let me or one of the mages know if you want it heated up.”

“Wait until you see Creepy’s room.” Sera looks at the door just in time to see Cole open it and step inside his new room.

“This is a good job.” Bull says, shaking his head. “This is a great job. Thank you. Both of you.”

“Wasn’t just us.” Sera says. “Pretty much all of Skyhold jumped in.”

“Yes, there was no shortage of volunteers, for Cole’s room especially.” Solas folds his hands behind his back. “Do you think our Tevintor friend will like it.”

“I think Dorian will love it.” Bull smiles. “Cole?” He walks over to Cole’s room, peering round the door to find shoes, a jacket and a pair of trousers discarded on the floor.

Cole is already laid on his side in the bed, hugging a stuffed nug to his chest.

“Hey, kid.” Bull says gently as he steps into the room and sits down on the edge of the bed. “Sera said that a lot of people helped put your room together. All the people you’ve helped. This is them saying thank you. Do you like it?”

Pappa’s voice is silent, for once, and Cole’s jaw trembles slightly as his eyes look around the room, before focusing on the Qunari. He nods, and screws his eyes shut.

Bull hushes him, running a hand through his hair before tapping the stuffed nug with his index finger. “That looks like one of Krem’s. You going to give him a name?”

“Cole.” The boy as good as mouths the name as he opens his eyes.

“Cole?” Bull chuckles. “You’re naming the nug after yourself?”

Cole shakes his head, looking down at the toy.

Bull’s smile fades as understanding dawns on him. “I think that would make the real Cole very happy, kid.”

He hears the main door open and close, and silently thanks Solas and Sera again.

“Try and get some sleep, Cole. When you wake up, Boss and the others will probably be here. Bet you’ve missed them.”

Cole nods and takes a deep breath, settling into welcome sleep against the painful exhaustion he is feeling. He pushed himself too hard. He shouldn’t have walked to the keep.

But he wants The Iron Bull to be proud of him. And that means…

Cole isn’t sure WHAT it means anymore. He opens his eyes. The Iron Bull is looking at him now, and Cole can’t see any hatred. Only kindness. Only...

Flinching, Cole reaches one arm out, taking hold of The Iron Bull’s hand.

“I’m not going anywhere kid.” The Iron Bull says, resting his other hand on top of Cole’s head. “You’re safe. This is YOUR room, and Skyhold made it for you. All the people you help every single day. You’ll always be safe and wanted here.”

Cole slips into sleep, curling protectively around the nug in his arms.


	10. Dreams

When The Iron Bull opens his eyes, he is in Cole’s room, but the bed is empty. The fire in the corner is unlit. The room is cold. Dark. 

Bull stands up from the chair he has been napping in, looking left and right. “Cole?” 

He steps into the main room, except he is instead standing in a corridor. Dark. The torches on the wall don’t provide enough light. Cold. The Iron Bull shivers, looking over his shoulder to see that the door he walked through is gone. 

“The Pit of the White Spire.” He turns and finds himself looking at Solas. A light comes from the top of the elf’s staff, surrounding the pair. There is a sense of warmth to it, and the part of The Iron Bull that remembers being a child afraid of the dark wants to reach out and touch it. 

“I am sorry, Iron Bull.” Solas sighs. “Had I known you would be accompanying us, I would have chosen something kinder for your first dream.” 

“I’m dreaming.”

Solas nods. “It must be confusing. I will answer any questions you have?”

“How can I be dreaming? And did you say this is the White Spire? I’ve never even BEEN there.”

“Cole has.” Solas says. “This was his home, once upon a time.”

“Cole lived HERE? Wait, is this...” Bull looks back up the corridor behind them. “Am I in the kid’s head?”

“Or perhaps he is in yours. Cole has that ability.” Solas’s smile fades as they reach a door. Locked. Cold. Dark. From behind it, The Iron Bull can hear sobbing. 

He has faced armies. Dragons. A fucking nightmare demon. 

Looking at this door makes him feel fear. 

He tenses, watching as Solas slowly opens it.

The light from Solas’s staff reveals a figure huddled on his side in the middle of the room, blonde hair almost black with grime, fingers red raw from scratching at walls. He shakes so violently that it must hurt, clutching at his stomach, sobbing brokenly, like he can’t catch his breath between sobs. And Bull wants nothing more than to pick him up and hold him close, hiding him from the world. 

He’s young, too young to be this wretched and miserable. And it had never occurred to The Iron Bull before that Cole’s body has aged and matured in the years since the real Cole’s death. That for his Cole to be the age he appears to be now, then the real Cole must have been...

“I’ll be good.” The young teen quietly begs the world around him as he curls in on himself. “I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry. Please, Maker. I’ll be good. I promise.”

“Imekari.” Bull whispers as he starts walking towards the boy, only for Solas to stop him.

“We are not really here, Iron Bull. Not yet. This is a memory. We can only observe.”

“Observe the kid DYING, Solas?”

“Watch.”

And there is someone...something...else in the room. 

The creature is green, featureless eyes glowing with a light of their own. Its genderless shape is human, like a 5 year old child with long hair falling in messy tangles over a simple green robe. 

It slowly kneels in front of the boy.

“I know it hurts.” The voice is that of the child it appears to be. “Here. You can rest now.”

Bull lets out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. “Is that Cole?”

“Compassion.” Solas says, his voice in awe. “The most precious, and also most fragile of the spirits. So easily damaged in our dark world.”

Compassion takes Cole’s hand. It moves the boy’s head so that he rests in its lap, and just sits there, running its other hand over his matted hair. 

“I’m here now. Don’t be afraid.” 

“Are...are you a demon.” The boy is too weak to do more than flinch with fear. “Are you going to possess me? Make me a monster?”

“No.” Compassion smiles. “I am going to look after you. I’m going to save you.”

Solas shakes his head. “He expressed doubts about how he helped the real Cole in his last moments. He believes that he failed the young man. So I told him to remember that day. But not his memories as Compassion. These are Cole’s memories. His final memories.” Solas smiles, softly. “Look at him, The Iron Bull.”

Cole’s eyes are closed. He looks peaceful as he lays in Compassion’s lap, falling asleep as the spirit sings to him.

“He wasn’t afraid.” Solas takes a haggard breath, and when Bull looks at him it is to see that the elf is crying. “When Cole slipped away, he was asleep, away from this nightmare. And his last thoughts weren’t of a dungeon, or hunger, or fear. He felt safe for the first time in a long time, maybe even comforted. Maybe even happy. He WAS saved that miserable night, Iron Bull.”

“Thank you.” The boy whispers, even as his grip on Compassion’s hand starts to weaken.

“Why am I here, Solas?” Bull asks, quietly.

“I did not bring you here. Either an innate power within yourself, or most likely Cole invited you.” Solas squints slightly. “What?”

And Varric is in the room. The Inquisitor. Sera. Cassandra. Dorian. Vivienne. Blackwall. They all stand in a circle, including the Iron Bull and Solas.

The Real Cole wakes, looking up at them all like he is seeing something mythical. Then he cowers, his bottom lip trembling. “Who are you?”

“Don’t worry.” Dorian says, his face kind as he kneels down next to the wretched boy. “We’re going to take you somewhere else, now.“

“Somewhere where you can get clean and warm.” The Inquisitor says. “Get some food.”

“It’s someplace safe, kid.” Varric smiles 

Blackwall approaches them, kneeling down.

“Will it hurt?” The boy flinches. “The Templar’s made it hurt.”

Blackwall shakes his head. “I’m going to be gentle, lad.” He lifts him into his arms bridal style and, with a nod towards Compassion, carries Cole through the cell door, followed by the others.

Compassion stands, smiles, and fades away.

“But that didn’t…” Solas shakes his head.

“Solas?” The Iron Bull looks at the elf, concerned.

“Fascinating.” Solas whispers, clutching at his staff. “Cole’s dreams have only ever been memories. Spirits work with what is real, what they can mirror. For him to IMAGINE, to see what has never happened and to make it real.” He smiles. “We may have just witnessed Cole’s first fantasy.”

And they are stood in Bull and Dorian’s room.  The younger Cole is clean and dressed in warm pyjamas, sat by the fire with Compassion and eating porridge with jam. 

“This is a nice home.” He says to Compassion as he looks up from his bowl. “Is it yours?”

Compassion shakes its head, then points at Cole. 

“Mine?” He looks around the room, tears coming to his eyes. “This is MY home? But...but this is too nice for someone like me?”

Compassion shakes his head.

The two figures fade out, and stood before The Iron Bull and Solas is their Cole, wearing the same pyjamas as his younger self. 

“Varric said that you can use your imagination to make things real even when they are unreal. I didn’t know what he meant by that at the time. But...I understand now.” Cole looks up at them, his eyes shining. “When I am dreaming, I don’t have to just remember things as they were. I can remember them how they SHOULD have been. I can save Cole. We can save him. We can make him happy here. I won’t fail him here.”

“Why do you think you failed him, kid?” Bull asks. 

“Pappa said...”

“You’re father told many lies, Cole.” Solas says. “You must learn to ignore him.”

“He’s too loud.” Cole wraps his arms around his head. “He’s there now, in the shadows. Clawing at my edges, tearing me apart. I can’t...”

The door vibrates as it is kicked from behind. “Open this FUCKING door, Cole.”

Cole flinches, eyes desperate as he looks at them. “Why can’t I dream him away?”

“You can, Cole.” Solas steps forward. “Know that you are stronger. You can defeat him. You have us. All of us.”

“Remember what I said, kid. You’re a badass knife wielding demon, with the Chargers and the Inquisition at your back.”

And Cole nods. And Cole looks down. And Cole is wearing his travelling armour, his hat. He is holding his knives.

And The Iron Bull and Solas are both wearing their armour as well. Bull is carrying his hammer. 

Blackwall and Cassandra stand with their swords. Dorian and Vivienne hold fire and ice in their hands, and the Inquisitor readies their mark. Sera draws her bow, Varric beside her with Bianca ready. Behind them the Chargers stand ready to attack. 

And they are stood in the Emerald Graves, under the green glow of an open rift. A Pride Demon comes through, accompanied by despair demons. Rage. Wraiths.

“Cole.” The Pride demon shouts with his father’s voice, before laughing. “There you are.”

“Wicked fool.” The Despair demons whisper. “Worthless.”

And Cole runs at the pride demon.

Dorian throws fire at each enemy in turn. Vivienne freezes the rage demon, and Varric shatters it with a shot from Bianca. The wraiths fall one by one to arrows. Cassandra and Blackwall join the chargers in striking the despair demons. The Inquisitor attacks the rift. And through it all Solas keeps barriers raised. 

The Iron Bull joins Cole in fighting the Pride demon. Chaos surrounds them in a noise of fire and arrows and blades meeting flesh.

“You can’t get rid of me Cole. I’ll always be there.”

With one final blow to the eye from Cole’s knife, the Pride Demon disintegrates, pieces falling back into the rift just as it closes. 

The forest clearing is silent. 

And Cole falls to his knees, dropping his knives.

 

* * *

When Cole opens his eyes he is alone in his room. The fire is lit in the corner, making the room warm as he slips out from the bed, leaving the stuffed nug under the blanket. 

He stumbles towards the door, opening it slowly. In the main room, The Iron Bull is laid on his back on the bed, snoring gently and sometimes mumbling incomprehensibly in his sleep, fist opening and closing slightly against his chest. Cole watches him sleep for a moment then slowly, not wanting to wake the giant, he grabs the edge of the blanket on what will be Dorian’s side of the bed and pulls, folding it over itself and wrapping it around The Iron Bull. He quietly pulls it straight, and then goes back into his room, grabbing the nug from is bed and sitting on the floor by the fire. 

With the nug held in his arms, he rocks back and forward, finding comfort in the rhythmic motion while he focuses on the flames. 

He is awake, but he finds that he can still dream. Daydreaming, he thinks Josephine called it once. He sits and ‘daydreams’ of the real Cole being read to by Cassandra. Taught to read by Sera. Taught to carve by Blackwall. Taught to use the crossbow by Varric. Finding comfort in memories and meditation with the guidance of Solas. 

He thinks of the real Cole getting sick, and Vivienne making rabbits for him to play with.

He things of the Inquisitor taking the real Cole to cafes.

He thinks of the real Cole looking in the mirror, and Dorian telling him that he is perfect. 

Cole closes his eyes, and thinks of the real Cole being carried by The Iron Bull. 

Except it isn’t REAL. Or is it real? He WANTS to believe that Cole is still alive inside of him. That he isn’t JUST Compassion playing a role, but spirit and human both. One painting by two artists. 

But how can Compassion KNOW. 

Are memories and feelings enough to make someone...alive? 

_ ‘No.’ _

Cole closes his eyes tight. And he remembers. He remembers the Inquisition helping him to fight his demons. And maybe that part of the dream was real.

The whole of Skyhold made his room. It surrounds him now. Their acceptance. Love. HIS room that they built so he could STAY. Wanted. 

He is sitting in a world so different to the way his mind tells him it is? Why do his thoughts make things wrong?

He remembers...IS it a memory? Or is it another dream? 

A healer, beard well trimmed, hair tied back.  

“Hello, little spirit.” The Mage Healer says, smiling. “This poor man has a high fever. Could you sit with him while the medicine does its work.”

Compassion knows how to help. It is innate. It does it without thinking. Like walking. Breathing. It is helping, holding a cool compress against the poor man’s brow. “What is your home called?”

“It’s called Crestwood.” The man mumbles. 

“What is it like?” Compassion asks. “Is it nice?”

The man smiles as he tells the spirit about his home.

Afterwards, the Healer thanks Compassion, patting it on the head like he might a well behaved child. “Back to The Fade with you now, Little Spirit.” He smiles as he beckons it away. “Go on.”

The world never confused Compassion. Healers or pain summoned it. It helped. It returned to The Fade.

Things were simple.

_ “You can’t go back. They don’t WANT you back.” _

Cole feels wetness on his face, and closes his eyes. He remembers the Inquisition helping him to fight his demons, and it silences his Father’s voice for a while.

It stops his father’s voice, but not the tears. Those continue with painful sobs. After a while, a hand rests on Cole’s shoulder, gently encouraging him down to lay on someone’s lap, a large hand holding his own. Another strokes gently through his hair, fingers massaging the scalp.

The tears pass, and Cole finds himself dozing. The hand continues in his hair, the other hand holding his. The Iron Bull is humming.

It doesn’t escape Cole’s notice that The Iron Bull is comforting him now the way that Compassion comforted the real Cole. And it helps. It is helping. It makes it hurt less. 

He couldn’t save the real Cole, but he didn’t fail him.

He feels that he could fall back asleep right there on the floor, one arm wrapped around a stuffed nug. But then, in the distance, there is a bell. Cole recognises it. The Gatehouse. 

They are back.

“Do you want to go down to them, Kid?” The Iron Bull lets go of Cole’s hand. “You just tap my hand if you want me to take you down to them. Otherwise we can stay here, that’s fine too. They’ll find us. Solas and Sera know where we are.” 

Cole reaches towards the hand, but then pulls back. 

_ ‘They won’t want to see you. Look at you. You’re weak. They’ll laugh.’ _

He closes his eyes again as The Iron Bull continues to hum, stroking his hair. 

Why does The Iron Bull keep helping him? He should hate Cole. Cole is weak. Pathetic. 

_ “You’re father told many lies, Cole. You must learn to ignore him.” _

If Pappa was lying about him failing the real Cole,  then maybe THIS, being sick, needing comfort, is okay too.

So he ignores his Father’s voice. Ignores the clawing in his stomach. 

Cole remembers the Inquisition helping him to fight his demons. 

He reaches out, and taps The Iron Bull’s hand.


	11. Friends

“Look after these horses, Master Dennet.” Dorian says as he dismounts. “They’ve done you proud.”

“Thank you, Lord Pavus.” Dennet replies as he takes the reigns from Dorian, leading his horse and the others back towards the stables. 

“Inquisitor.” Cullen calls as he approaches the group. Sera is behind him.

The Inquisitor greets them with a nod. “What happened?”

“Not here.” Cullen shakes his head. “In the War Room.” He raises his voice. “You made good time.”

“Would have made better had some bandits not decided to try their luck.” Varric taps the edge of his crossbow.

Cassandra smiles. “They learned their mistake.”

“One can not learn when dead, my dear.” Vivienne steps forward. “I understand that I am in need of alternative accommodation?”

“Actually, your quarters are ready for you, Madame de Fer. Bull and his people moved out this morning.”

“How’s the kid, Curly?”

“I haven’t seen much of him myself.” Cullen says. “But from what I’ve been told he’s still unwell…”

“And will be for some time.” The group turn as one to greet Solas as he approaches them. “Cole has been very badly hurt by this attack, both mentally and physically.”

Varric closes his eyes, shaking his head.

“What is his condition?” Cassandra asks.

“He becomes exhausted easily, and that exhaustion can bring him pain. He is also experiencing severe insecurities and anxieties. The attack caused him to relive the abuse suffered by the real Cole, and it left him with the belief that he is unwanted and without worth.”

“Has he...I mean he isn’t going to…” Varric can’t bring himself to say it. 

Cullen coughs, clearing his throat. “Bull has hidden Cole’s knives in my chambers.”

The Inquisitor nods, hands trembling slightly. 

Solas turns to Varric. “When we see him, patience will be important, especially yours, Master Tethras. You have an important role in his life, and your approval and kindness will be vital to his sense of self worth.”

Varric nods.

“He needs plenty of rest. He will also need us to be reassuring. Gentle.” Solas turns to the whole group. “He will need us to help him fight his demons.”

“Yeah, and he still ain’t talking.” Sera shakes her head. “Which is freaky. Never thought I’d actually WANT him to say something.”

“So, some gentle words and a good few too many hugs.” Dorian’s voice is bright but his smile is clearly forced. It becomes more genuine as he sees who is standing at the bottom of the steps leading to the Keep. “Amatus.”

“Welcome back, you guys.” Bull says, before turning to look at the hooded figure that he is carrying. Smiling, he slowly lowers Cole to the ground. 

“Cole.” Dorian says, meeting the boy and, without a moment of hesitation, pulling him into a hug. “You poor boy.”

“Hey, Cole.” Varric grabs his hand, holding it tight. “Sorry we took so long getting back. We’ve missed you.” 

Cole visibly relaxes in Dorian’s arms, his hold of Varric’s hand tightening as he looks at the dwarf, his eyes shining.

“How about you go to Cole’s favourite spot in the tavern.” The Inquisitor says. “Get some food and drink and just relax for a bit. If anyone deserves a lazy afternoon it’s you, Cole.”

“Yes.” Dorian smiles. “That’s what you need. We’ll get you back on your feet and healing other people’s hurts in no time.”

The Inquisitor smiles. “And Cassandra has your favourite chapter of Swords and Shields with her.” 

“No.” Cassandra says, pointedly. 

“Oh come on Cassandra.” Sera says, giggling. “Story time in the tavern.”

“I have to speak to Cullen in the war room.” The Inquisitor says. “But I will join you all later.” They rest their hand on Cole’s back.

Still in Dorian’s arms, Cole nods. Then he is as good as swept away as the group starts towards the tavern, while The Inquisitor and Cullen head for the war room. 

The Iron Bull crosses his arms as he watches the group leave with Cole, smiling.

“Well.” Vivienne says behind him. “If anyone asks after me, I shall be retired to my chamber, trying not to think about who was last sleeping in the bed.”

Bull chuckles. “The servants replaced the sheet.”

“Then I shall avoid burning them.” Vivienne returns the smile. “Where have you moved out to?”

“We’ve got our own room. On the edge of Skyhold, so it’s quiet.”

“Oh, would these be the rooms Josephine mentioned in passing?” Vivienne smiles. “And does ‘we’ include your paramour?”

“Hopefully. Dorian doesn’t know about it yet.”

“Well then why delay in telling him? Cole is in good hands with the Inner Circle, and I think you’ve more than earned a break. Time to sneak away with our Tevintor friend.” She gives him a small bow. “Good afternoon, Iron Bull.”

“Ma’am.” He returns the bow, before making his own way towards the Tavern. 

“Solas, a private word before I go?” Vivienne says, approaching the elf. 

“What can I do for you, Vivienne?”

“Have either yourself or Commander Cullen had a chance to examine Cole since the attack?”

“Of course.” Solas wraps his hands around his staff. “I have been visiting Cole in his sleep regularly.”

Vivienne lowers her voice. “Then I trust you have...checked?”

He looks down, and nods again.

“And?”

“He is not an abomination. But, I believe that they did TRY to possess him.”

Silence falls between the two for a moment.

“Understandable.” Vivienne looks back up in the direction of the tavern. “A creature like that would be a valuable host. A human body with demonic abilities.”

“Luckily, it appears that while the demons were able to harm his mind, they could not do more. It is likely that Cole’s unique nature makes him as immune to possession as it does to binding magic.”

Vivienne sighs. “Well, we can be thankful for that, at least.”

“Is that concern, Madame de Fer?”

“Hardly.” Vivienne smiles. “But if that poor thing dies, I know you will all be even more impossible to deal with. Well, now that I am assured that there is no danger of the creature becoming a revenant. Good day, Solas.”

“Enchanter.”

Solas watches Vivienne leave, then turns back to the tavern, his face solem.

 

* * *

Bull finds the others on the top floor of the Herald’s Rest, sitting on and around the boxes in what was often called “Cole’s Corner” by the tavern regulars.

Cole is sat on one of the boxes, his knees drawn up to his chest. Varric sits on one side, while Dorian sits on the other, both holding Cole in a hug between them. Sera sits on the ground, her legs crossed, while Cassandra has found a stool, a book rested in her lap. 

“Amatus.” Dorian says. “I’ve been ignoring you. What a terror I am. Grab a seat.”

“Of course. But, uh…” He leans in closer to Dorian. “There is something I want to show you first, Kadan?”

“Oh.” Dorian smiles. 

“As long as you don’t show him THERE.” Cassandra shakes her head, smiling.

“Oh.” Sera says, mysteriously. “It’s not something he can show him here.”

The Iron Bull looks at Cole. “Cole, will you be alright here while I show Dorian his surprise?”

Cole nods, giving Dorian a small smile as he does so.

“A surprise.” Dorian squints at Bull. “That both Sera and Cole are in on?”

“Yes…”

“It isn’t a basket of kittens, is it?”

“No.” The Iron Bull narrows his eye. “Do you WANT a basket of kittens?”

“You sap. You would actually source one if I asked wouldn’t you?” Dorian chuckles, and slides down from the box, pausing to brush imaginary dust from his trousers. “Alright. Let’s see this surprise that isn’t kittens.”

The Iron Bull can’t help one more look over his shoulder as he reaches the stairs, watching Cole look at each member of the group, before finally allowing himself to relax while he listens to Varric quietly start to tell one of his stories. 

Bull smiles, and follows Dorian out of the tavern.

 

* * *

“Okay, Kadan.” Bull covers Dorian’s eyes with his large hand, and opens the door. He waits a moment, then removes the hand. “There you go.”

Dorian stands in the middle of the room, looking from one side to the other. 

“A room. Wait...OUR room?”

“If you want.” Bull smiles. “I would like you to move in here, with me.”

“I don’t know what to say?” 

“Well I’m HOPING for yes, but I know it’s a big change, Dorian. I understand if you want to think about it.”

“No. It’s...it’s perfect. It’s just…” Dorian turns to face him, but then looks down. 

“Kadan?”

“Where I come from, something like this, but between two men...it’s not something you hope for. It’s a fantasy, nothing more.” His face cracks as he indicates the room. “It’s...hard to believe. To be with you like this, living, sharing our lives.” 

“I understand.” Bull says, resting a large hand on the Mage’s shoulder, before silently stepping back and watching as Dorian explores the room.

“I had planned to add more things to the room before I showed you, but…”

“This doesn’t need anything more.” Dorian says, looking at Bull and smiling, before he continues exploring. It doesn’t take him long to find, and open, the small door in the corner. 

“What’s this? Have we also become father’s while I’ve been away.” He steps into the room, picking up the unmistakable hat from the end of the bed. “Cole?”

“That’s the other thing I needed to talk to you about.”

“Cole will be living here too?” 

Bull nods.

The Mage nods, turning the hat over in his hands before placing it back on the bed. “The Tal Vashoth, the disinherited, and the spirit boy. All helping each other in one big happy found family. Varric should right a novel.” 

He approaches Bull, tapping him on the chest. “You DO realise that this will make certain... _ activities _ tricky between you and I? Cole is a walking masterclass in indiscretion.”

“If all else fails.” Bull takes hold of Dorian’s hand. “Cabot has rooms to rent.”

“Oh? So I am to become your sordid little tavern affair?” Dorian teases before he kisses Bull.

“Is that a yes, Kadan?”

Dorian chuckles, holding his arms wide. “Of course the answer is yes, Bull. Yes to all of it. You, me, Cole. Yes ten times. Family Bull-Pavus-...does Cole even have a surname?”

The Iron Bull shrugs. 

“Well.” Dorian raises one of his eye brows as he thinks. “Cole Bull-Pavus rather rolls off the tongue, somewhat. Don’t you think?”

The Iron Bull laughs. “Yes it does.”

The happy mood fades slightly as Dorian looks back into Cole’s room. “He’s alright? I mean, he isn’t alright but...he will be? Won’t he?”

“I don’t know.” Bull says, honestly. “I don’t think he’ll ever be the way he was before the attack, Kadan. He might battle this for the rest of his life.”

“Well, he certainly won’t be battling alone.” Dorian says sternly, pulling Bull into the room with him. “This is his new normal now. OUR new normal.”

He sighs as Bull pulls him into his arms. “Promise me something, Amatus.”

“Of course.”

“I know you well enough to know that you’ve been in mollycoddle mode since those demons attacked.”

“Hey! I don’t molly...”

“Oh leave off.” Dorian chuckles, then jabs Bull in the chest. “Today and tomorrow, I want you to rest.” Another jab. “Trust ME, Varric and the Inquisitor to look after Cole if needed. Please.”

Bull smiles. “Of course.”

Dorian narrows his eyes.

Bull rolls his eye, chuckling. “I promise that I will rest today.”

“And tomorrow?”

“And tomorrow.”

“Good.”

 

* * *

The afternoon slips into the evening and an unofficial party, complete with a game of Wicked Grace that even Cullen agrees to join them in (After Varric tells Cole to give him the ‘puppy eyes’).

There’s laughter and tales. The Inquisitor has a rabbit in their story. 

“Here, let’s share cards kid.” Varric says, climbing up onto the bench next to Cole. He lets Cole hold the cards, but he arranges them and plays himself. Cole likes that, it means he doesn’t need to concentrate on the game all the time. He can just BE for a while.

_ “Just watch the world. Nothing else to think about. Just this moment. Just here.” _

He watches The Iron Bull watching him, and gives him a smile that the Qunari returns ten fold. 

“Deal me in.” Cassandra says. “I refuse to let THAT dismal display be my last game.”

Dorian chuckles. “Would you like to borrow some coin to bet with?”

Cassandra groans as everyone else laughs.

Cole senses movement on his right, and sees Sera passing him a note and pen.

 

READING TOMORROW?

 

He nods, folding the note and putting it in his pocket as the next round of cards begins.

Cole thinks that Josephine lets him and Varric win. 

At some point that he later struggles to remember, Cole realises that his head is rested in his own arms against the table and people aren’t sitting there that were sat there just now, and there is a coat draped over his shoulders that he thinks he remembers the Inquisitor wearing. And someone is talking with a gentle voice, sitting him up. 

He drifts, and wakes to find that he is sat on the sofa in his new home. The Iron Bull and Dorian sit either side of him as they share wine and anecdotes, The Qunari laughing heartily as Dorian tells a joke, and then pulling the mage into a hug, which, by default, also includes Cole.

He drifts, and wakes to an arm wrapped behind his back, another under his knees as he is carried. He’s lowered into his bed, and he feels the mattress dips as Dorian sits on the edge, his hand rested on Cole's arm for a moment before he gets to work arranging the blankets around him.

“Good night.” The Mage whispers, before quietly leaving the room.

And as he drifts into sleep once more, Cole is something that he can’t remember ever being before. 

He is excited for tomorrow.

 


	12. Brothers

Cole’s strength comes and goes. He has moments where he feels lighter, and can walk and even run and he and Stitches race from the bench to the tree and back and Cole laughs because Stitches is laughing and he thinks this will be a happy memory, even as he collapses exhausted onto the bench.

Later, he sits with Dorian in the library. Cole wants to help, so Dorian gives him one of the books and some parchment.

“I need that copied out.” Dorian says, pointing at the paragraph in question. “Good way to practice your letters, and saves me having to do it myself. Win win, I call that.”

He grins as Cole eagerly starts copying the paragraph, keeping his place in the book with his finger as he writes.

“Let me know when you’re done. Got a few more I’d like to take notes from.”

Varric joins them, working on his latest novel, and the atmosphere is peaceful, Dorian or Varric occasionally asking about the progress of the others work, and each taking turns to get drinks and snacks from the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Another day, and Cole stands with his daggers in his hand, looking at the training dummy.

The Iron Bull watches from the edge of the training ground, arms crossed, a smile on his face, and Cole thinks about proud parents watching their children.

“Alright, to work.” Cullen stands behind the dummy. “The enemy is a hurlock. What are the weaknesses?”

Cole holds his dagger up against the dummy’s throat.

“Good.” Cullen nods, approvingly. “A darkspawn Shriek.”

Cole holds the dagger against the side of the dummy’s head.

“Excellent.”

“Kid knows his stuff.” The Iron Bull says.

Cullen steps forward. “Now Cole. The enemy is a despair demon.”

Cole steps back, knives falling to his side.

Cullen indicates the dummy with a nod. “What are its weaknesses, Cole?”

He shakes his head, looking desperately at The Iron Bull.

The qunari smiles, reassuringly. “Think, Cole. What do the mages use to fight them?”

Cole nods, and points at the torch that Cullen has picked up.

The former Templar smiles, handing him the torch. “Go on.”

Cole takes the torch, watching the flames dance on the edge. He looks at Cullen, who nods, and then holds the torch out, catching the edge of the dummy. It doesn’t take long for the straw to catch light, fire travelling from the chest area and across the shoulders, the head. Cole feels The Iron Bull’s hands on his shoulders as he is pulled back.

The three stand watching as the ‘demon’ burns in front of them.

“They have a weakness, Cole.” Cullen says. “They can be stopped. Well done.”

Cole returns the smile.

 

* * *

 

Cole’s strength comes and goes. He has moments where his mind is a numb fog and his eyes hurt. The heaviness burns, weighing down on every muscle, and Cole tries to think of good memories, but he can’t focus. All he has is now, curled up tight, arms wrapped around himself, vulnerable, crying because it is the only release he has.

He can hear voices. The Iron Bull and Dorian talking. He hears his name but can’t make out the other words. No. Are they tired of him? They must be. He’s ungrateful. Everything they’ve done and this is how he repays them. Being miserable.

Cole tries to muffle the sobs, but trying is too much. It hurts, and he cries harder, the sound made alien as it forces itself through his hand.

“Shhh.” The Iron Bull whispers, gently pulling Cole’s hand away from his face, and stroking his hair. “Come on, kid.” He wraps his arms around Cole and lifts him up.

No. No. He doesn’t want to leave. He knows he deserves it, but he doesn’t want to be taken away. Please. He will try harder. He opens and closes his hand, and The Iron Bull sits him back on the bed before stepping back, giving Cole space.

“You’re safe.” He whispers. “It’s alright, Cole. I’m glad you trusted me to stop. Thank you for trusting me.” He taps Cole’s hand. “You know that you’ve got that. And I don’t need to know the why, kid. No questions asked there. But I do need to know WHAT I did that was frightening you. Can you tell me?”

Cole hugs himself tight, bringing his knees up to his chest. “I want to stay.” His voice is quiet, raw from lack of use. “Please. I’ll be good. I’ll get better. I’ll try harder. Please, let me stay.” His voice cracks. “Let me…” He can’t continue.

“Oh, kid. Is that what you thought I was doing.” He shakes his head. “No. I’m not getting rid of you. I promise. Hey.” Bull leans closer. “Me and Dorian won’t fit in your bed, so I was taking you to ours.”

Cole processes the words, squeezing his eyes shut as he nods, his emotional defenses spent.

“Do you want me to just stay here and hold you for a bit, kid?”

Cole nods again, limp as the Qunari picks him up, moving over to the window so that Cole can look through it if he wants to.

“Shhhh.” The Iron Bull repeats the gentle sound. “It’s okay kid. Don’t fight it. Just let it happen. Do whatever you need to do. Cry. Scream. Just be held. Whatever you need.”

He keeps up the gentle encouragement as Cole, sat in his arms, cries into his shoulder.

At one point, Cole feels another, smaller hand on his back.

“You poor thing.” Dorian’s voice sounds different. Heavy. Is he crying too? “You’ve hit rock bottom today haven’t you?”

“It’s been a busy few days.” The Iron Bull says. “It was going to catch up eventually.”

Once Cole’s sobs have died down, The Iron Bull smiles, turning so that Cole is looking at Dorian.

“Bull and I are going to have a lazy day in bed. Would you like to join us, Cole?”

Cole nods, and The Iron Bull steps out into the main room, arms wrapped tightly around the boy. Dorian walks beside him, holding Cole’s hand.

Bull lays down on the master bed, head supported against his arm to accommodate his horns. He lays Cole in front of him, the boy’s back to his chest, and drapes an arm over him.

Pulling the blanket up over Cole, Dorian lays down in front of the boy.

“Sleep now, Frater _._ ” He rests a hand on Cole’s arm. “Today is a bad day, but you’ve had good days recently. Cullen said you’ve been doing really well in your training.”

“He’s really proud of you, Cole.” The Iron Bull whispers. “We all are.”

“Of course. And bad days aren’t forever. There will be good days again.” Dorian traces shapes against Cole’s arm. “Until then, we’ll just lay like this. And that’s okay. We can stay like this for as long as you need us to, Frater.”

“You won't get angry?” Cole mumbles. “Or tired?”

“Tired?” Dorian replies. “Of helping you? Never.”

“What if I never get better?”

“You WILL.” Dorian says. “You just need time.”

“Recovery won’t be overnight, kid. And it might take years. But hey, we know you’re doing your best. We know days like this aren’t your fault.”

“That’s not to say that Bull and I won’t get frustrated sometimes.” Dorian says, making eye contact with Cole. “But it will be at the situation. It’s horrible what happened to you, and you didn’t deserve it.”

“It’s good that it was me.” Cole says, quietly. “Otherwise it would have been someone else. And they might not have a family.” Cole yawns. “I have you. And Varric and Solas and...Sera...and…Inqui...tor.”

Dorian blinks back tears, and even The Iron Bull is emotional, training be damned.

Humming a gentle tune, Dorian moving his finger up to gently trace along the side of Cole’s face, thumb stroking away tears as the boy falls asleep.

Bull looks at Dorian. “Frater?”

Dorian blushes slightly. “Felix used to call me that, sometimes. It means…”

“Brother.”

“Ah, you speak Tevene as well, do you?”

They both laugh fondly as Cole starts to snore.

Dorian leans forward to kiss Cole on the forehead before settling back, reaching for a book on his bedside table.

“You call him brother.” Bull says. “But I’M the one that’s mollycoddling him?”

“Quiet, you.” Dorian says, smirking. “Did you notice?”

“Notice?”

“He’s started talking again.”

Bull smiles, nodding as he settles onto his back. He closes his eye and listens to Dorian read aloud, Cole sleeping peacefully between them.

 

* * *

 

“I saw the Black Kity…”

Sera giggles, and shakes her head. “I after C.”

“City.”

Dorian smiles from where he is sat cross legged on the bed, surrounded by research notes.

“Toh-wers...To...towers?”

Sera nods.

“Towers all stah in ed. Stained. gates…onke, no...e…once.”

“Excellent.” Dorian says, not looking up from his notes. “Now your reading more confidently, perhaps you can help me with some of this reading here.”

“Way to motivate him.” Sera says, before turning back to Cole as he lowers his head, suddenly very interested in a tiny spider climbing up the front of the opposite sofa. “Hey, Creepy. Focus.”

Cole blinks slowly.

“Break time? Suits me, I’m hungry." She looks over at Dorian. "Where are you hiding food?”

“The kitchens.”

“Ah. Great host, you.” She pokes her tongue out at Dorian. “When’s The Bull back. Least HE knows how to treat a lady.”

“Go find me a lady and I will treat her well.”

“Oi, you.” Sera giggles at that, gently throwing her reading book at him. Dorian dodges the book, returning her grin before turning to face Cole as he approaches the bed.

“Going for a nap? You had a long training session with Cullen this morning, I suspect you’re tired.”

Cole nods, picking up one of Dorian’s books.

“Have you ever seen a family tree, Cole?” Dorian points at the book. “See. The lines show us how all the different names are related. So we can see that Maurianne and Harcourt are joined by this line, so they were a couple. And that line goes into the top of Sethius. So Sethius was their son. And there’s also a Serana, see how the same line goes into the top of her name too. That means she was their daughter, and a sister to Sethius. And this line joins her with Marcus the way Maurianne and Harcourt are joined. That would make Markus her husband. And they had three children, but the Amladaris name was continued by Harcourt’s brother...”

“Boring!” Sera shouts from the couch.

Dorian laughs, while beside him Cole runs his finger along the various lines. Then he climbs onto the bed, picking up a blank piece of paper and a pen.

THE IRON BULL               DORIAN

He then joins the names by a line, the same way that the couples are joined in the Amladaris tree.

“Yes, that’s right.” Dorian says.

Cole’s smiles, but then his face falls. He looks from the paper to Dorian, then back down.

 

COLE

 

And he bites his bottom lip.

“What’s wrong?”

Slowly, his hand trembling, Cole joins his name to Dorian’s own, the way that siblings are joined.

“Of course, Cole.” Dorian whispers, his voice low as he grips the boy’s shoulder. “Frater, you remember?”

“Brother.” Cole smiles.

Returning the smile, Dorian reaches into his shirt, pulling out a small golden amulet. Cole doesn’t recognise it, but Sera does. She remembers helping Bull to get it back from Ponchard. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Dorian quietly puts the birthright around Cole’s neck, letting it rest against his chest. “Why don’t you look after that for a while.”

Smiling as he studies the amulet, Cole sits back and looks at Sera.

“Oh, leave me out of the fake family shite.”

“Sera.” Dorian admonishes. “Not even as a distant but much loved cousin?” He puts his arm around Cole as they both look at her, pleading.

“No thanks.” She forces an annoyed expression on her face, but she can’t mask the grateful look in her eyes. “And still hungry, here.”

“Very well.” Dorian stands, before encouraging Cole to lie down on the bed. “We won’t be long, alright.”

Cole nods, watching them leave before turning to lay on his back, looking around the room. It’s the first time that he has been alone since the attack, and it feels strange. Quiet.

He sits up, picking up the paper with his makeshift family tree, before looking from that to the amulet that Dorian gave him. Two golden snakes looking out from a nest of jewels. He runs his finger around the edge, closing his eyes as he feels...pride, duty, family. Emotions poured into the amulet by generation after generation of Dorian’s line, their thoughts left as echoes. Dorian’s family. But then, Dorian had said that the inner circle was his family, now. Just like it was Cole’s.

Cole thinks of the Inquisition, and he feels the same emotions as echoed from the amulet. Pride. Happiness. Strength. And another emotion He doesn’t recognise. He hasn’t felt it before..no wait. He has. Years ago, holding Bunny in his arms.

It makes him smile as he falls onto his side on the bed, the amulet held in his fingers. He concentrates on the feeling.

He must have fallen asleep because he feels like he is waking up, and he is still alone in the room, and it feels cold.

“Dorian?” Cole whispers, sitting up. He wraps his arms around himself, but the cold is inside of him. No, he is feeling it inside. “Sera?”

Fear, he can feel it tugging him towards the door. Towards the Keep. Fear and he knows. He KNOWS. Dorian and Sera.

They’re in trouble.


	13. Rabbits

Cole follows the fear. Where is it stronger? This way?

He feels cold.

 

* * *

“Well, well.” The Venitori agent grabs Sera by the chin, roughly shoving her head from side to side. “Aquinea Thalrassian’s only son, friends with a knife ear. You’re an embarrassment to her, Dorian.”

“One tries.” Dorian quips, eyes fixed on Sera as she stares defiantly at the agent.  _ Don’t do anything stupid, for the Maker’s sake. _

“We’ll bleed the girl first.” The agent says to the brute beside him, a man so large that Dorian wonders how they managed to hide in Skyhold for so long. But that’s for later, right now he needs to figure out a way out of this mess. 

Still sluggish from whatever was used to knock them out, he studies the room. It looks like one of the derelict areas, hidden away, probably not patrolled often. Great. 

Help wouldn’t be coming anytime soon. Which means Dorian and Sera were on their own. 

The elf seems to be as aware of their predicament as the mage, her eyes wide even as she spits in the agent’s face, an action that earns her a strike to the side of her head, dazing her. She’s helpless as the brute breaks the ropes binding her to the pillar and drags her over to stand on the markings drawn onto the floor.

“Arse…” She swallows back bile, eyes fixed on the dagger in the Venitori’s hand.

The brute stands behind Sera, holding her still.

Dorian struggles against his bindings, and sees movement out of the corner of his eye.

With a gasp….the brute stops breathing, falling sideways against the ground as, behind him, Cole raises the bloodstained sharp edge, maybe from a broken mirror, in his hand.

Cole grabs Sera, pushing her to the side as, the element of surprise still his, he jumps at the agent. 

“Cole no.”

Dorian’s shout comes too late, as Cole’s makeshift knife embeds itself in the Venitori’s throat, pouring blood onto the floor.

Onto the symbols. 

He hears the demon before he feels it, cold ice in his stomach, throat, mind. Heavy weights dragging him down. It’s too much. Too much to bear. 

He sees it. Cloaked whispers of despair. Just lay down like before, let them. No, he has to fight now. This time. They will hurt Dorian. Hurt Sera. It’s just the one demon. He can fight. 

He HAS to fight. 

What is their weakness, Cole.

He can feel it in his mind. And he has to keep it there.

“No.” Cole lashes out with that glass, striking the creature across the face and earning a claw to his arm for his trouble. He ignores the pain, focusing on Dorian and Sera. 

“Make it burn.” He shouts.

There’s a table near Sera, rotten by bugs and covered in webs. She kicks at it, breaking off the leg. Grabbing this, she holds it up as Dorian lights it, making a torch. “Creepy, catch.”

Cole grabs the fire, and strikes the demon in the chest.

It’s screams are all he can hear. It fades, curling around the fire as ash and flame consume it from inside. And then it explodes, throwing Cole through the air.

He strikes his head, and for a moment the world is dark, and then someone is towering over him, and Cole strikes with his fist, strikes again, thrusts up with the makeshift knife. 

And see’s Dorian’s eyes. 

Dorian’s fear. 

The glass is in his shoulder.

Sera stands behind him, grabbing the mage and pulling him away from Cole. From the demon.

Dorian’s blood is on his hand.

_ They’ll all hate you. Once they find out what you really are. No one will want to touch you. _

“No.” Cole looks down at the floor. His hands shake.

_ “No.” _

The look on Dorian’s face. Scared. Pained. 

Betrayed?

_ They’ll all hate you. Once they find out what you really are. No one will want to touch you. _

It’s the look that Rhys had, when he learned that Cole was a demon. 

He’s hurt Dorian. He’s attacked Dorian. He’s...Dorian will hate him. Iron Bull will. Sera. Varric.

He tries to push the thoughts aside. Dorian is hurt. Cole needs help. Cole has to...

But there is darkness around what he wants. Because that is the future. Darkness. He can’t move. 

He will go back. Back to being forgotten, to forgetting, to hiding in shadows and watching the world. Back to a world without family, love, gentleness. 

He can’t, he won’t. He…

“Forget.” He whispers, before raising his voice. “Forget.”

It doesn’t work. 

He presses his hands into his own head. He must forget. He stumbles backwards. He can’t miss what he doesn’t remember. Can’t regret losing what he never remembers having. He just has to “FORGET.” His voice echoes in his own ears. “FORGET.”

He thinks that someone is shouting his name, but he can barely hear them over his own screams. “FORGET. FORGET. FORGET.”

Why doesn’t it work?

“FORGET.” He feels emptiness claw at the him, and he feels sick. The birthright, Dorian’s birthright, given to Cole. But Dorian is afraid of him now. He will want it back. He won’t want it worn by the monster that hurt him. Cole tries to reach for it, but he doesn’t have the strength. Despair weighs on him like rocks.

He can’t breath.

The darkness takes him completely. 

_ Forget _ .

And for a while, he does. 

No thinking, no remembering. 

There are rats at his feet.

Cole curls up on the floor of the skyhold dungeon, alone and forgotten, and compassion does not come. No one does. He shivers, arms clutching and scratching at his feverish skin as he curls up as tight as he can, sobbing into the grime on the floor.

How long has he laid here, forgotten by everyone in Skyhold?

A rat bites at his knee, and he flinches. But he can’t escape.

He doesn’t even have the energy to lift his own head out of the dirt that surrounds him.

He hears voices. A dream? He closes his eyes, listening. The dream feels warm. Loving. Like a warm blanket covering him, a soft pillow beneath his cheek as he lays curled on his side. And a hand gently brushing through his hair. 

“You need to rest, Kadan?”

“I’m sat down.” Dorian’s voice is raspy, tired. Cole almost doesn’t recognise it. Why is he dreaming Dorian as sick?

His eyes tighten, but he can’t change the dream. 

“Stitches says there’s nothing more the healers can do here. So let’s take him home, Dorian.” Bull says. “He can stay in our room. We’ll just hold him between us, like we did on bad days.”

“Don’t DO that.” 

“Kadan?”

“Past tense!  _ Did _ on bad days. He’s not...he’s going to…” 

“Shhhh…”

Cole dreams of arms around him. IS he dreaming it? Being lifted, carried, held above the ground.

“The Iron Bull?”

“Solas, we’re taking him home.”

Cole wants to be in the dream, not here with the cold, dank and rats. He wants...he wants the dream to be the thing that is not a dream. But it is getting quieter.

“I have a proposal, if you are willing to listen.”

And Cole can’t hear the dream anymore. It’s gone. 

Rats bite at his ankles, and he weeps. Sobs. His tears mix with the dirt and grime on the ground and he feels it stick to his face and hair. 

He hurt Dorian. And he’s in the dungeon for it. And they’ve forgotten him. 

_ What you deserve. _

He weeps so hard that his chest hurts, and his breaths come only in painful hitches, like he is trying to breath through the ocean.

And he feels a softness against his face, wiping the tears. 

“Shhhh. It’s okay, Frater. We’re here…”

Dorian?

Then The Iron Bull lifts him, holding him in his lap. “Oh kid. Why are you dreaming about the dungeon?”

“Let's find somewhere nicer.” Dorian says says as he turns to indicate the now open door. 

Cole tries to reach out to wrap his arms around the Qunari, but he barely has the strength. He moves enough to get the message across though, and The Iron Bull stands, holding Cole in his arms. “We’ve got you, kid.”

Compassion didn’t come, but someone else did. And Cole is carried out of the dungeon. 

“Listen Cole.” Dorian says. “Varric is awake. He’s started reading. Can you hear him?”

_ “They say coin never sleeps, but anyone who’s walked the patrol of Hightown Market at midnight might disagree.” _

They walk along the battlements, the route that The Iron Bull and Dorian sometimes took him on in the evening (No, Dorian doesn’t want them to speak in the past). 

On good days, Cole would walk beside the Qunari and mage, talking with them and listening to the other people of Skyhold. But on bad days they walked like this, with Cole wrapped in a thick blanket. Hidden. Protected. Dorian walks beside them, his hand rested against Cole’s arm.

Cole’s eyes start to close, and he forces them open again. He wants to stay here in the dream. If he sleeps here, he might wake up back in the dungeon. 

“ _ The pickpockets and confidence men head to the taverns at dusk, the dwarven businessmen and nobles go back to their tiny palaces to fret over the ways they got cheated, and the market falls silent _ .”

“You’re home. You’re in our room.” Bull says, quietly. “We’re all laid out on the bed. You’re sleeping between us?” Bull adjusts the blanket wrapped around Cole as the boy looks at his hand, rested on the shoulder beside his head. He feels...pressure. Like it is being held. “Varric is there. And Solas. He’s using his magic to enhance that weird demon crap you do.”

“To put you in the hearing.” Cole whispers.

The Iron Bull tightens his hold around the boy.

“You’ve been badly hurt, Cole.” Dorian says. “But don’t worry. We are going to look after you.”

“But I HURT you?” Cole’s voice is a rasp. 

Dorian shakes his head. “You saved my life, Cole. You helped me.”

“And Sera’s alive too.” The Iron Bull says. “Thanks to you.”

“Yes there was that minor incident afterwards, which hurt by the way.” Dorian smiles. “But it was an accident. You were scared. Confused. I know you would never really want to hurt me, hurt us. I don’t hate you, Cole. Please stop hating yourself. Please stop punishing yourself.”

Cole feels tears in his eyes as he listens.

“We love you so much.” Dorian says, quietly. “And whatever mistakes you make, whatever darkness you have to overcome, it won’t stop this…” He points at the birthright around Cole’s neck. “...from being real. Because you are a the kindest, most precious soul we have ever met. And you help people. That’s what you do. And if...WHEN you wake up, we are going to be just as kind back. Because you deserve kindness Cole.”

_ What you deserve. _

Cole presses his face into Bull’s shoulder, and the Qunari smiles, closing his eye as he silently hopes that Cole is finally starting to put his insecurities and despair to rest.

“ _ Donnen Brennokovic knew every angle of the market with his eyes closed. Twenty years of patrols had etched it into him so that he walked that beat even in his dreams. _ ”

By this point, they have reached their rooms. Home. And Cole is sat on the sofa in Bull and Dorian’s room, still in the blanket and wrapped in The Iron Bull’s arms while his head rests against the Qunari’s chest. Dorian is sat on Bull’s other side, holding the boy’s hand.

“There” The Iron Bull whispers. “No more bad dreams, Cole. We’re just going to sit with you until you feel safe enough to wake up. And when you do, you’ll be in our home.”

“It’s not a dream. I’m dreaming, but it isn’t a dream. It’s what real is. Will be.” Cole curls up tighter against The Iron Bull’s side. “But what if it isn’t? What if I’m asleep and the dream is a dream and real is the nightmare?” Cole shakes his head. “I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

The Iron Bull sighs. “I know kid. And I wish I could stop it from hurting, but even the best healers can only do so much. Then you just have to believe that time will do the rest. And until then, we’ll be there to hold you. And that won’t be so bad, will it?” The Iron Bull smiles. “Entire days of being held like this.”

Dorian by this point has curled up against Bull’s other side, reaching over to drape his arm across Cole. And it feels so warm here, the fire lit, the heartbeat slow under the boy’s ear and giving him something to listen to that isn’t voices and...Cole drifts.

_ “Cole?” _ Varric’s voice, louder now.

He reaches towards the voice. But is it real? Is he in the dungeon or his home.

“That’s it, Kid.” Varric whispers. “Solas, I think he’s waking up.”

Cole reaches into the darkness, desperate for purchase, and two hands wrap around his. 

“Alright, hey. You going to open your eyes for me?”

He opens his eyes, and it isn’t the dungeon. He’s warm. Comfortable. Held.

“It worked.” Varric shouts. “Welcome back, kid.”

Cole never wants to leave again.

 

* * *

“The Iron Bull, I need to see where to put my feet.”

“In a moment.” Bull says into his ear, keeping his hand in place over Cole’s eyes as he walks him into the tavern.

“Why don’t you want me to see the tavern?”

Bull chuckles. “Of course you know where you are.”

He waits a moment, and then removes his hand. “Surprise, kid.”

And everyone is there. The Inquisitor, Sera, Dorian, Varric, Cassandra and Solas. Krem and Stitches stand with the other Chargers and Cullen near the bar, and Marguerite is there with Grim, Sophie laid in her lap.

There’s food, drink, a large bowl of druffalo stew.

Maryden sings near the fire.

One table has a small pile of boxes. Gifts. 

“No.” Cole looks at everyone in horror. “I didn’t bring anything.”

The Inquisitor chuckles. “This is YOUR party Cole. You only need to bring yourself.”

“My...for me?” He looks up at The Iron Bull.

“Varric said you didn’t know when your birthday was, SO we all decided to pick a day. And THIS day, every year, is when we celebrate you.” He points at the gifts. “Those are for you, kid.”

“But you’ve already given me the room, and a family, and…”

“Cole, Cole, Shhh.” Dorian hushes him. “It’s alright. This is your party. Enjoy it.” He lowers his voice. “We are celebrating you. And celebrating good things makes people happy.”

Cole smiles at that. This is making people happy. This is helping. And not just others. “Alright.”

There’s a new set of daggers from The Inquisitor, decorated with jewels. The scabbards match the new set of armour from Dorian and The Iron Bull. 

Varric gives him a small crossbow. “Now she’s for the range, not proper fighting. So now going up against Darkspawn with her. She’s just to practice with, understand Kid.”

“I understand.” Cole says as he gently places the crossbow on the table. “Do I have to give her a name?”

“If you want.” Varric smiles. 

From Sera he has a new pouch to carry healing potions in. And from Cassandra his own copies of the Swords and Shields series.

“Even got the dwarf to sign them.” She says, smiling.

“Can I read them to you, Cassandra?” Cole asks.

“If you would like.” 

One paper wrapped package has no label, and no one can rightly say who put it there. Cole opens it slowly, to reveal a finely tailored, comfortable looking shirt. A shirt complete with a large hood.

“Hey, how about that.” The Iron Bull chuckles. “Guess that means you can stop stealing Krem’s.”

Cole takes off his hat and coat, and puts the shirt on, pulling the hood up. He turns to look at the group, who all nod, smiling. 

From Solas he gets a pack of cards, and an offer to be taught how to play diamondback. He thanks the elf, and puts the pack in the pocket of his new shirt. 

Eventually, there is just one box left. 

“That one arrived with the Fereldan patrols yesterday.” The Inquisitor explains. “Leliana said she was expecting it. It’s for you, Cole.”

The label has no name, only a sentence. 

“More stories should have rabbits.” Cole reads after a moment. 

He opens the box, and finds inside is a small, expertly carved, wooden rabbit. 

As Cole holds it in his hand, Varric pats him on the back. “That’s going to look good in your room, kid.”

Cole doesn’t answer as he looks from the rabbit to each of the other gifts on the table. 

“Cole?” The Iron Bull steps forward, unable to see Cole’s face for the hood.

He can hear him sniffing though. 

“Ah, kid, come here.” Bull whispers as he pulls Cole into a hug, letting Cole quietly cry into his chest. “All a bit too much in one go. Yeah, you just give yourself a moment.” He puts his hands on Cole’s shoulders, and stoops down to look him in the eye, or rather where his eyes would be through the hood. “You okay, kid?”

Cole thinks for a moment, and then tilts his head up. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3 <3


End file.
